


Power Play

by Shrinkydink



Category: Arrow (TV 2012)
Genre: Comedy, Drama, Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-05-21
Updated: 2015-01-10
Packaged: 2018-01-26 00:59:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 33,404
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1668890
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shrinkydink/pseuds/Shrinkydink
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Story is AU: Oliver Queen is a professional hockey player for the NY Highlanders (think Rangers) and he's had a recent bout of bad PR. Team owner Walter Steele hires an acquaintance's daughter, Felicity Smoak, to help spiff up his Captain's now tarnished image, however, this story goes much deeper. Intrigue, danger, and emotions run high.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Somewhere in the recesses of his mind he heard musical notes.

They got louder.

And louder.

Clearing the cobwebs from his still half-asleep brain, he realized two things; his phone was ringing, and there was someone draped over his body - who was just as naked as he was.

_Shit._

It had been a long time since he'd been in a predicament like this.

He'd left his playboy image behind the last few years after having found 'the one.' Laurel Lance wasn't like the various puck bunnies that preceded her; she was in a league of her own. In fact, he'd actually given serious thoughts to proposing...and then he got cold feet.  Showing her true colors, Laurel then went and slept with his best friend Tommy Merlin.

_Screw them both._

Flailing his arm, Oliver Queen inwardly applauded his success at making contact with the offending cell phone on the first try.

Slowly he pried one very dry, very irritated eye open to look at the time on its display.

6:00am.

If he remembered correctly, that meant he had about 2 hours of sleep. He wanted to beat someone - but off the ice that was frowned upon.

With the limited strength he had, he lowered his gaze to the name on his screen to see who was calling. It was Slade Wilson; Head Coach of Oliver's employer, the National Hockey League's New York Highlanders.

It didn't take a Mensa membership to know why Slade was calling. Their leader had been out with the rest of the team last night to celebrate their over-time win against the Capitals - but only for the first hour. Slade was afraid Oliver would screw up his already precarious position with the organization. He was expected on the ice in 90 minutes. It was only a practice day, but Oliver couldn't afford to be anything less than perfect after his recent 'indiscretions.'

Two months ago he'd been made a "healthy scratch" after he found out about Laurel and Tommy and had gotten so plowed he missed a team lunch and an interview with CBS sports due to one spectacular hangover. He'd begged forgiveness, taken full responsibility and swore to team owner and father figure - Walter Steele - that nothing like that would ever happen again.

Then a month later he was arrested for public indecency when he was caught relieving himself Tommy's car...only it wasn't Tommy's...it was Tommy's Dad's.

Who owned the New Jersey Devils.

_Whoops._

They both had the same damn 'custom' Aston Martin, not that he even remembered doing it.

Whatever.

Delaying wouldn't help. He attempted to clear his throat before answering, though it barely made a dent in his NextDayHangover voice. "Hey Slade, I'm already dressed and on my way- "

"Don't give me your lying shit, Queen. Get out from under the imitation redhead and get your ass to the Garden. Steele wants to meet with you before you even lace-up. He's seriously pissed and plans on 'teaching you a lesson.'"

Pushing up on one elbow while trying not to disturb the slumbering aforementioned redhead, Oliver questioned, "What the hell does that mean, I haven't done anything -"

"Don't want to hear your excuses, be here in 30 minutes, you'll get the details then."

_Click_

* * *

 

"Thank you for joining us, Ms. Smoak."

Walter Steele smiled at his recently acquired Public Relations expert. She'd be working for his PR director on a pet project no one else wanted to touch - nor had the time for.

Trusting the advice of an acquaintance; Walter hired the man's daughter for this job. Although presently, he'd be remiss not to question his decision. The beautiful young woman before him was anxious and ... awkward. I _f she stuttered when nervous with him, how the hell would she deal with the cannibalistic media?_

"Thank you for trusting me, Mr. Steele." She pushed her black-rimmed glasses further up the bridge of her nose, "And I promise you, I know how to deal with them."

 _Had she read his mind?_ "Excuse me?"

Pointing at her new boss sitting across his mahogany desk from her, "It's your body language, Sir. I can tell you're probably wondering how I can possibly be an asset to your team."

 _Yes, yes I am_. "Of course not, I trust your father."

She smiled with obvious disbelief, "No, you don't; you know him too well."

Felicity swiped at an imaginary piece of dust on her lap before re-engaging Steele with direct and pointed eye contact. "But you will trust me. I promise you, I will deliver the results you need."

Steele couldn't help but smile, he tried to keep the patronizing father-look from his gaze. "I believe you will."

Unsure exactly what role she'd played in her previous job's...incidents, Walter hedged, "I've seen your other work; I know you did extensive work for the Congressman last year."

He may have been accused of being a self-absorbed billionaire, but Steele didn't miss Felicity's minuscule but still present flinch at the congressman's mention.

Swallowing the bile that rose in her throat, Felicity responded, "Thank you. I'm pleased you've followed my work."

Felicity took a deep breath before continuing, painting her best I-am-completely-fine-no-worries-here smile on her face. "And I plan on taking the same resolve and dedication to the Highlanders. In as little as 6 months - maybe a few more - they'll be THE most respected team in the NHL - both on and off the ice."

Walter sighed, torn between owner and a man who could easily sense sadness, "You know, Felicity, there is no harm in admitting you may be hurting about something-"

Knock. Knock

Both turned to see Walter's ever-competent assistant enter, "Mr. Steele," she acknowledged her boss first before nodding to Felicity, "Ms. Smoak."

Stepping to the side to allow someone else to enter, she announced, "Mr. Queen is here."

Felicity had seen his pictures and interviews, even watched him play a few times, but up close and personal?

Da-yum.

Maybe she should have worn a more fashionable suit today, and heels... done her hair. Mentally slapping herself in the head, she regrouped. Shooting upright, she took what she hoped were no-nonsense steps toward him with her hand outstretched -

...and he walked right by her.

Barely registering the woman in the room - which was highly unusual for him - Oliver marched straight for his boss. "Walter, listen, I haven't done anything -"

"Except be horribly rude." As Walter stood and rounded his desk, he gestured to the woman Oliver just had the audacity to ignore, "This is Ms. Smoak."

Irritated that his conversation with Walter was being delayed, but also at himself because he usually wasn't that much of an ass - he did have manners - he finally turned to give the woman his attention.

She was cute...if you liked that wide-eyed innocent thing.

Which he didn't.

Oliver reached out to take her still dangling hand. "Ms. Smoak, please to meet you, I'm -"

"Hot-" shaking her head she, stammered, "O-on the ice, you're on a hot-streak right now Mr. Queen, I know who you are."

He cocked his head to the side, eyes slightly squinted in concentration as the corner of his mouth began to lift, "Thank you, Ms. Smoak." He extricated his hand from hers, "And call me Oliver."

"Thank you, Felicity," she shook her head again in embarrassed frustration, "I mean you can do the same - call me Felicity." She laughed, desperately trying to think of a way to regain the professional persona she'd practiced during the car ride to the Garden.

With a quick inhalation of breath, Oliver turned back to Walter and Felicity got the distinct impression she'd been dismissed.

"Listen, Walter, like I was saying -"

"No Oliver, you listen."

Turning to pick up the copy of the Daily News from his desk, Walter held it up for Oliver's review. There on the cover was a shot of him from the night before - with the woman he'd left less than an hour ago.

His hand was tucked mysteriously up the back of her skirt.

Hers on the fly of his pants.

As if that wasn't enough, Oliver winced at their oh-so-convenient placement.

They'd been playing tonsil hockey outside a subway entrance, oblivious to any onlookers with their cell phones handy. Behind them was a giant public service announcement featuring Elmo. It read, "Tickles make me giggle..." Their bodies blocked the rest of the statement encouraging young children to read.

_Shit._

Seeing the gravity of Oliver's 'third strike' settling in, Walter continued, "You came to the organization at just 19 years-old and never left. In all of those years I've never traded you, always took care of you at contract time - hell, you even introduced me to your beautiful mother and now you and I will be spending Thanksgiving together. But I can't deal with this anymore; you need to get yourself together."

Oliver hung his head with a sigh, tucking his hands in the pockets of his suit pants - the same ones he'd obviously been wearing the night before.

After a moment of reflection, he lifted his head about to speak but then abruptly stopped. With a pointed look at Walter, he tilted his head toward the woman he'd just met; silently indicating this should be a private conversation.

With an almost affectionate smile, Walter responded to Oliver's unspoken request, "She stays, Ollie, and you might as well get used to her." His grin broadened. "You two will be spending a great deal of time together."

Confusion knit Oliver's brows, "What?"

Walter's large frame took contrastingly graceful steps to return behind his desk. "Ms. Smoak has been hired as part of our PR team, and she has one specific job - at least to start with."

The often intimidating owner of the New York Highlanders had a grin that positively illuminated the room. "You."

* * *

 

"How did it go?"

Walter barely made it through the front door of Moira's palatial Westchester home before Oliver's mother pounced.

Chuckling he teased, "I'm happy to see you too, Honey."

With a self-deprecating smile, Moira corrected herself, "Sorry, you know I worry about him."

Walter swept her hair over her shoulders before pulling Moira in for a hug, placing a chaste kiss to her forehead. "I know, but I have a feeling this recent bout of...mistakes is very temporary for Oliver, he's way too driven."

Moira relaxed into his embrace, while she had felt this way about Oliver's behaviors, it was comforting to know Walter truly believed this as well.

"I just don't get it; he hasn't acted like this since he was 20. He was never a saint but he'd learned discretion," her features soured, "And for the past few years with Laurel he's been positively boring."

The way she uttered the name of Oliver's ex with such disdain mirrored Walter's thoughts. No one in Oliver's close circle had really liked the woman. Sure she was polite, refined, even beautiful; but she was also stiff, remote, and apparently faithless. Oliver's father - who'd died when he was 15 - had raised him to be a gentleman, so Oliver never said a word otherwise, he'd let the media rip him to shreds.

Laurel Lance had been America's Sweetheart, an actress in numerous B movies - the queen of RomCom - so when she cried on tabloid TV that Oliver cheated on her, most of the country believed her. His subsequent exploits didn't help, especially last night's.

Typically Walter didn't care about the personal lives of his players, as long as they performed on the ice, he was happy. And while some would suspect Moira played a role in his recent chastising of Oliver, which was only partially true. Oliver was the team's captain, he wore the C on his jersey and by definition, that meant he should lead, he should set the example; and normally he did.

Walter couldn't afford to have his team fall apart because his captain was. He needed to get Oliver back to the man he knew he was and it needed to happen quick. He had too many other potential problems on the team if he didn't - like Roy Harper, the kid made Tyler Sequin look like a choirboy, his antics were already giving his PR team grey hairs.

Pulling himself from his thoughts, he refocused on Moira, "Roger's daughter, Felicity, is on the case, she feels she has something to prove as the youngest member of our PR team, so I have a feeling Oliver won't have a choice but to toe the line."

With a sigh Moira pulled from their embrace, ultimately coming to rest by the window that overlooked her perfectly manicured entryway. "I hope so, I just can't help but shake the feeling there is a bit more to this." She paused as if in thought, her eyes distant. "This just isn't like Oliver."

Offering a comforting touch, Walter rested his hands on her shoulders from behind. "He'll be fine, I'm sure of it," giving a gentle squeeze of reassurance before hesitantly moving to a different topic, Walter questioned, "What do you know of Felicity Smoak?"

Brows pulled in confusion, Moira turned to face him, "Just that she's Roger's daughter." Sifting through any relevant memories Moira added, "I vaguely remember her as a child before her mother died and they moved, she was shy like her mother. I never quite got what that sweet woman saw in Roger; the man has never been kind."

Walter grimaced and she rushed to apologize, "Sorry, I know he's a friend of yours."

After a deep breath Walter responded, "Acquaintance is probably a better term. We've done business together through the years and really, I only kept in touch with him over the last few because of his political connections, having a Senator on your side never hurts."

Thinking of the shy girl she'd known at 6, and the woman who was now to be her son's shadow, Moira couldn't help but question, "Are you sure about that?"


	2. Chapter 2

John Diggle was an enforcer on the ice. Bring the puck into his zone, and he'd introduce your face to the glass and your body to the boards. The brutal impact would reverberate throughout the Garden. Though at this moment, it wasn't that particular crowd-pleasing sound echoing through the Player's Lounge, it was his booming laughter.

"Oliver my man, you are your own worst enemy, you know that?"

The two sat slumped in over-stuffed chairs, physically exhausted from their grueling practice. Oliver had asked to speak to Diggle after they'd showered and dressed, which led them here, sipping protein water in the team's lounge.

The room looked like an exclusive country club 'men's only' cigar room; Forrest green walls, gleaming dark wood wainscoting and matching ceiling trim, even the various assorted chairs and tables screamed _manly-man_. Like everything else in hockey, the lounge had a nickname, The Sac, because most players sat relaxed and scratching theirs while in it.

Clearly displeased with his best friend and Assistant Captain, Oliver merely glared at him in response.

Diggle - a 6'4, 250 pound wall of muscle - was not intimidated. "Seriously, you know I'm always on your side, Ollie, but you've been epically stupid lately and getting assigned a babysitter is well-deserved."

This wasn't the response Oliver had been hoping for. He tipped his head back, resting it on the back of his chair while his eyes scanned the ceiling. "You were supposed to say you'd talk to Walter for me."

The truth was, Diggle didn't like the way his friend had been behaving, and while he wasn't sure this was the smartest way to address it, he was happy something was being done. "And say what Ollie?"

Oliver sighed, frustrated at Diggle, frustrated at Walter, but truth be told, royally pissed-off at himself. "Never mind, you talking to Walter wouldn't make a difference. This is my crap to clean up."

Diggle's expression softened, he hated seeing his best friend go through this but didn't know how to help. "Just play nice. Do what Walter asks, do what this Felicity woman says and just be done with it."

Unable to keep still in mind or body, Oliver leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. He watched the remaining contents of his protein water swirl as it dangled from his grasp.

Not able to even muster a verbal response, Oliver simply nodded in reluctant agreement.

Trying to find any kind of silver-lining, Diggle asked, "So what is this Felicity Smoak like?"

Knowing his friend was making an effort to try and find some positives, Oliver made an attempt to snap out of his melancholy. He thought back to meeting the woman a few hours ago.

"Blonde, blue-eyed ... awkward." He sighed, "I could probably make her life miserable, she doesn't seem to have a backbone."

The side of Diggle's mouth hitched, knowing his friend. "But you won't, so what are you going to do?"

Oliver half-heartedly smiled, "Mostly avoid her, do the bare minimum until Walter calls her off -"

"Calls who off?" Roy Harper, left wing and current number-one party-boy of the Highlanders stopped as he was passing through the Player's Lounge - adjusting its namesake and wearing that red hoodie he wore everywhere.

Oliver groaned. Roy may currently be occupying the top spot on Walter's _"Players I Want to Strangle"_ list, but he really didn't want the rookie knowing he'd secured a spot on that list as well.

Attempting to throw him off the scent, Oliver chastised, "You were about 2 seconds slow on every play today, Harper. Go home and get some rest."

Roy bit back a smart-ass comment about his Captain's photo-spread in the Daily News. He may be a "rookie" but he was doing his best to learn restraint. Then there was the fact that he was kind of in awe of Oliver. No matter what happened in the guy's personal life, he was unstoppable on the ice.

"Will do, Cap." Not able to fully restrain himself, he had to at least allude to the pictures, "That's a nice suit you're wearing."

Oliver's eyes slowly lifted to his least favorite winger, knowing full well the punk was referring to the fact he was wearing the same clothes from the night before - the kid must have seen the pictures.

Oliver stood, barely containing his irritation. He took a few steps toward Roy who had the good sense to take a few steps back.

Then, in sudden contrast to his black mood, Oliver came to a jarring stop.

And his smile spread.

One second he was ready to punch the kid, and the next he was positively giddy with a new thought. Oliver had been so involved in his own drama, he'd been somewhat remiss in his off-ice ... responsibilities.

The season started weeks ago and they'd yet to haze the rookies.

Not ready to share his new thought with Roy, he feigned disinterest in the rookie's taunting. "Thanks Roy, maybe one day when you grow up, you can buy one too."

Roy swallowed. He just watched some weird transformation in Oliver from scary to eerily happy and it made him _very_ uncomfortable.

Seeing discomfort in the kid - and remembering all too well what it was like to be the young-gun on the team - Oliver used his free hand to playfully cuff Roy on the shoulder. "I'm just teasing; I deserve a little crap this morning. No hard feelings."

Roy's sigh was audible, his body slumping with relief. He even managed a smile at his Captain's teasing. "You scared me there for a second." Feeling the need to make sure they were okay, Roy added. "You know I look up to you. I know you can teach me a lot and I really look forward to -"

With an eye-roll, Oliver turned to place his protein water on one of the many nearby tables. "Quit while you're ahead, Harper, no one likes a kiss-ass."

Diggle had stayed out of the exchange until now, seeing his chance to further smooth the waters by pretending to align with the rookie - he took his shot at Oliver. "Seriously Harper, I mean come on, we all saw the paper and we know it isn't Ollie's ass he likes kissed."

Roy laughed, grateful for the assistant captain taking a little heat off of him.

Oliver was even amused. In fact, in years past he was known to be a team prankster.

Which reminded him...

"Alright Roy, Diggle and I have to talk about some stuff for tomorrow's game, get lost." Then he snapped his fingers in that universal gesture of suddenly remembering something you forgot. "And don't forget to valet your car for morning skate; they're doing construction on the player's lot so the valets will park your car."

Not wanting to admit he didn't remember this, Roy acted like it was old news, "Yeah, sure, no problem."

With a wave, the 20-something left.

Diggle looked at Oliver and raised his brows, silently inquiring what that last exchange was about. When all he got in response from Oliver was an evil grin he finally asked, "They aren't doing construction, why do you want him to valet his car?"

Feigning a somber attitude, Oliver placed his hand on Diggle's shoulders, "We've let our new players down, Diggle." He tilted his head to the side as if pondering something serious, "I can't let that go on. Our rookies need some welcoming, and nothing says welcome to the NHL like a little hazing."

And just like that, the evil grin was back.

Diggle instantly became apprehensive, "Do I even want to know what you're thinking, Oliver?"

Oliver removed his hand from Diggle's shoulder to pull his cell phone from his jacket pocket. Scrolling, he hit the contact he wanted to call before holding up his index finger, indicating Diggle should hold his thoughts for a minute.

When his assistant answered, Oliver set his plan in motion. "Hello Marcie, best assistant in the world," he laughed, she clearly had said something caustic, "No, I'm not buttering you up...okay, maybe I am."

Diggle tried to get his attention again; Oliver waved him off and continued on. "I need your help, is there any way you can get me like 500 condoms by tonight?"

Now Diggle really tried to get his attention, motioning for Ollie to stop talking by drawing a hand across his own neck but Oliver was having too much fun.

"Yes, Marcie, I need 500 condoms, I have big plans."

Diggle gave up trying to be subtle and grabbed Oliver by the shoulders, turning him to face the door Roy had just left through.

And his eyes met Felicity Smoak's.

Casually leaning against the door jamb with her arms folded, the irritating woman simply raised her brows in question before mockingly mouthing _"500?"_

Oliver ended his call. "Gotta go, Marcie, I'll call you back later."

Diggle had been with the Highlanders for 8 years, he knew everyone in the organization so by process of elimination, this must be Felicity Smoak. He also knew his best friend needed a second to re-group.

Walking to the woman, Diggle extended his hand, "Hello Ms. Smoak, I'm John Diggle."

Felicity had done her homework, she knew all the players and by contrast to Oliver Queen's antics, Diggle was a family man. Married, three kids, house in suburbia, he was the least of her worries which made an unconscious warmth emanate from her to him.

"It's wonderful to meet you, I know a great deal about you Mr. Diggle." Releasing his hand, she took a few steps further into the room. "Besides being one hell of a Defensemen, you're a PR girls' fantasy; great Dad, loyal husband, total stand-up guy."

Diggle all but blushed, uncomfortable with the praise. "Thanks, but call me John."

She nodded, "Please do the same, it's Felicity."

For some reason Oliver found himself irritated by the lovefest before him. His voice held a slight edge as he directed his question at their new guest, "Were you looking for me?"

Bringing her gaze to his as if she'd forgotten he was there, Felicity answered. "Oh - sorry, yes. I was hoping we could meet for a bit before you left. There are some things I want to discuss with you."

Oliver checked his Rolex.

Felicity became inexplicably irritated by the gesture, she wasn't sure if it was the flashy Rolex, or the implication she was keeping him from something more important. Her tone may have been a bit scolding when she added, "I know you've got 'big plans' for tonight, but I'm relatively certain anything involving you and 500 condoms cannot be good."

That's it, now he was angry, it wasn't her words, it was her tone. He wasn't a 6 year-old who needed a time out.

Stepping just a fraction too close, he tried to intimidate the little nun. "Oh, I don't know Ms. Smoak, I've been told when condoms are involved, the things I do are very, _very_ good."

Oh-for-Pete-Sake, how did she do these things to herself? Desperate not to allow her mind to go there, she tried to think of something painful, totally distracting. Sticking a fork in her eye!

Except her body naturally reacted, closing the one eye she'd just imagined poking.

Oliver pulled back, confusion stamped in his features, she was supposed to cower. "Did you just wink at me?"

"No!" Felicity took several steps back, "It was my contact, my contacts are bothering me."

Oliver scowled in disbelief. "You're wearing glasses."

Flailing her hands dismissively, she retorted. "I just meant I thought my contact was bothering me, I forgot about the glasses, something must have been in my eye."

Watching this show with his mouth open, Diggle finally regained his composure. He'd been shocked by his friend's obvious sexual innuendo used to intimidate - that wasn't Oliver's style, and completely confused by the duos clear dislike for each other when neither knew the other.

"Ah, hey you two, here's an idea, why don't you start again."

Grasping at anything, Felicity faced Diggle. "Wonderful idea, John."

She turned her attention back to the man who could make or break her career and took a deep, clarifying, long breath.

"Mr. Queen, let's just ... move on." Felicity motioned to a nearby table and chairs, indicating they should sit.

Having no idea what just happened - and not really sure he wanted to; Oliver took the olive branch the woman offered and joined her at the table.

The sooner he played nice and got this over with, the sooner she'd be out of his life.

* * *

After John Diggle's not so subtle departure - he clapped Oliver on the shoulder and told him to 'play nice' before leaving - Felicity took a moment to ground herself before beginning.

Oliver stared.

Felicity stared right back.

As the silence stretched on, Oliver sighed in annoyance, checking his watch again.

It took all Felicity had not to kick his shin with the point of her shoe. He hadn't chosen to sit across the table from her; rather he sat next to her, turning his chair to face hers.

Taking yet another deep, cleansing breath - something she sensed she'd be doing a lot around this frustrating man - Felicity painted a smile on her face. "Mr. Queen -"

"It's Oliver, we discussed this earlier today."

Biting back a retort at his condescending tone, Felicity responded, "Right. In that case, _Oliver_ , let's start again."

Suddenly just too tired to continue sniping, Felicity's posture deflated with fatigue. She hoped he could hear the sincerity in her tone, "We are on the same side here, we want the same things."

Oliver doubted that. He wanted to be left alone. She wanted to be in his face 24/7 making him do tricks for the media. Still, he could tell the woman was making a genuine effort and it wasn't her fault Walter hired her.

Resigned, Oliver nodded as his body relaxed as well. "I know. And I apologize Ms. Smoak."

At the use of her formal full name, she quirked and eyebrow and smiled, reminding him of his 'earlier conversation' snark from two seconds ago.

He couldn't help but lightly laugh, "Sorry, I meant Felicity."

For the first time he saw her _true_ smile, it transformed her already cute features into so much more.

The woman was beautiful.

Not that it mattered, entanglements of any kind were the last thing he needed - especially with _this_ woman.

Returning his focus to the task at hand, Oliver questioned, "Exactly what did Walter say was your job?"

Hating to break their semi-truce, but sensing he needed her to be honest, Felicity laid it out for him. "He wants you back as "the face" of the organization. Right now he feels like he has to hide you because of your recent headlines. They make you fodder for trashy magazines and mockery - which in turn affects the team's image and ultimately, their ticket sales."

Oliver frowned, "I hardly believe my personal life affects ticket sales."

"Ah, but it will." Felicity pushed her glasses back up her nose, "You see you set the tone. Walter told me both Roy Harper and Derek Kraig have showed up to morning skate hungover - twice in the last 10 days."

Oliver waved a dismissive hand, "But that is no reason to hire someone like you. I know I have to set the tone. I know the young guys look up to me and as the Captain and I need to fly right."

Felicity tilted her head to the side, sympathy etched in her features as well as the unspoken question of ' _then why aren't you?_ '

Irritated at his own inability to answer that question, Oliver stood and began to pace. He knew he'd been acting stupid, Walter had already told him to get his shit together weeks ago and he hadn't.

Knowing they didn't have enough of a relationship, Felicity didn't push for an answer to her silent question, instead she tried to motivate him. "This downturn you've been on has thankfully been short-lived, so provided you don't continue it, we should be able to turn things around quick."

Oliver glanced briefly in her direction but continued to pace.

Hating to ask but needing to, she pushed. "Any chance Laurel will stop her public passive-aggressive smear campaign?"

The annoying actress had taken to Twitter making incessant references to 'someone' who treated her badly, and how 'his' recent behavior showed the world 'his true colors.'

Oliver did not react how Felicity expected him to when she spoke of his ex and her recent exploits. She thought he'd bite her head off. Instead he shrugged, seemingly unaffected by either mention.

She guessed it made sense. After all, Oliver had cheated on the woman. Maybe letting her publicly rant was his way of making amends.

_Men were assholes._

Not wanting her personal life to affect her professional life, _again_ , Felicity did her best to push her own painful thoughts aside and continued on. "I'm going to call her publicist tomorrow, see if we can arrange a cease-fire."

Oliver laughed but the sound held no humor. "Good luck with that."

Not able to fully contain her 'men are assholes' reaction, Felicity prodded, "Why so resigned? Exactly how many women did you sleep with while you were dating her?"

Her snap judgment completely ticked him off.

Oliver's response was laced with bitter sarcasm and he layered in some theatrical drama for good measure. "Hundreds, maybe thousands, Felicity." He walked back toward the table, standing over her as he finished, "You know us professional athletes; women in every city, different one every night."

While his posture was relaxed - hands in his pockets, Felicity could _feel_ the restrained anger under his surface. Something wasn't right. Why go from indifference to outright hostility when the topic hadn't changed?

She'd been in the business long enough to know things aren't always what they appear.

"If we are going to be working together on this, Oliver, I need to know what I am dealing with. What happened with you two?"

Oliver simply stared, not even blinking as he took slow, measured breaths.

Felicity watched the muscle of his jaw tick.

She'd read about the last several years of Oliver's life. He appeared to be the devoted boyfriend, accompanying his gorgeous girlfriend to every red carpet event but standing off to the side, never taking the limelight. Spending time with the actress' family, even sacrificing time with his own to be with hers. He was known to use his rare days off to visit her wherever she was.

Suddenly clarity struck. It all made sense now, his spiral downward, his remoteness.

Felicity shot to standing, nearly knocking Oliver over in the process.

" _She_ cheated on _you_ , didn't she?" Not waiting for his answer, her mind began churning out plans, "I will crucify her in the press."

Oliver was momentarily speechless, not simply because the woman had been one of the few who'd figured it out - and he was oddly satisfied she did - but because she seemed genuinely _angry_ for him. She was a virtual stranger and yet she seemed ready to throw down.

Finding his voice again, Oliver felt the need to calm her even while confirming her suspicions. "Relax, I don't care about her lying."

"Well I do! Who does that? Does she not have a conscience?"

Oliver couldn't help but chuckle at her staunch defense of him, "I appreciate your outrage, I do," he decided to set the tone and displayed total calm, "but it just doesn't matter anymore."

He gestured to the seat she had been occupying moments before and sat back down himself. "Let's just get back to discussing what I have to do."

Slowly she sat, not quite understanding. "Of course it matters, why are you letting her get away with this?"

He shrugged, "It happened months ago now, but my current problem is my own stupid behavior."

"B-but she's still lying about you every chance she gets!"

Oliver was beginning to think this must have struck a chord with the woman; she was a bit too adamant in his defense.

He made a mental note to have someone look into her background a bit.

Without thinking he reached out to give her hand a reassuring squeeze. "I truly don't care what she has to say at this point. My friends and family all support me and that's all that matters."

He withdrew his hand, realizing too late that it was a bizarrely intimate thing to do to someone he worked with - never mind one he'd just met.

Felicity knew he'd said something, so she nodded like she agreed, but in reality, as soon as his large, warm hand wrapped around hers, the only thing she was aware of was how oddly _nice_ it felt.

Which was both shocking, and colossally stupid.

The last time she let herself enjoy an attraction she got burned, badly. That wouldn't be happening again, _especially_ with someone she worked with.

Forcefully pushing those thoughts from her head, she returned to business. "Well, I guess if you're okay with it than I will be too - for now." She couldn't help but take one last parting shot at his ex, "But I gotta say, this is by far the best acting I've ever seen that woman do."

Oliver's laugh was loud and genuine, it felt almost rusty since it had been so long, but it also felt really, _really_ good.


	3. Chapter 3

 

* * *

John and Lyla Diggle had been married for ten years, something nearly unheard of in professional sports. They were also the proud parents of 8 year-old twin girls and a 5 year-old boy. Their successful careers paired with his extensive travel schedule meant they had to be creative with the time they did have together. They also had a set of rules they lived by, and the most important was absolutely _no_ secrets between them.

This was why Lyla - who was currently watching the Highlanders annihilate the Devils - knew she was staring at the back of Felicity Smoak's head.

The previous day John had returned home from The Garden deep in thought and Lyla, being the observant wife and therapist by trade, asked what was on his mind. John detailed for her what he'd witnessed in the player's lounge - namely Oliver's out of character behavior toward the Highlander's newest hire.

Lyla was instantly curious.

For too long they'd seen the light go out in John's best friend. Truth be told, they had been somewhat relieved to see Oliver's recent antics, he was showing signs of life again.

The 'Laurel Years' had been...difficult for them to watch. The longer he had dated her, the more he became flat, almost one dimensional. They'd supported him and befriended Laurel, but they just never felt connected to her. They sensed they were losing the Oliver they knew and loved. Sure they were still close, but he just wasn't the same. He had always been funny, charismatic, and personable; but when he was with her this all faded, dulled.

Not knowing why Oliver responded so strongly to the team's new PR rep, but intrigued enough to want to know more, Lyla did what all normal people do when their interest is piqued - she Googled the young woman.

Lyla had discovered Felicity was a Senator's daughter...and beautiful, which only intrigued her further. The young lady didn't share her famous father's last name so the connection wasn't immediately apparent; somewhere along the lines she'd taken her deceased mother's maiden name. An act of defiance? An emotional tribute?

Lyla also discovered Felicity's previous job had been in politics, she had worked for New York Congressman Sebastian Blood. Lyla remembered the man had been involved in some murky scandal a few months ago. Surprisingly the press never fully uncovered what had happened. All the public knew was at the height of his reelection campaign, several of his closest staffers suddenly quit, Felicity being one of them. The Congressman had spun it to imply his fleeing staffers were the problem, but few believed it. Still, the man managed to get into office.

Knowing her internal dialogue was getting her no further, Lyla decided to take action. Reaching out, she tapped the shoulder of the energetic woman in front of her.

Jumping at the unexpected touch, Felicity turned around. "Yes?"

Lyla smiled apologetically, "Sorry to startle you, but I wanted to introduce myself," she reached out her hand, "I'm Lyla Diggle."

Felicity relaxed the moment she recognized the brown-haired, blue-eyed woman, "Yes, I know. I've seen a few pictures of you." Suddenly realizing that made her sound like a stalker, Felicity rushed to correct, "I- I work for the Highlander's now, I do PR. My name is Felicity, Felicity Smoak."

As the two shook hands, Lyla couldn't help but smile, the woman was endearing.

"I know, John mentioned you to me." She gestured to the empty seat next to her, the children were at home since it was a school night, "Come on up, it'll be easier to chat if we're side by side."

* * *

Hoping she made the right decision in accepting the offer, Felicity entered _Ernie's_ , a shoes-stick-to-the-floor kind of bar about 15 blocks from the Garden.

Felicity had laughed herself silly talking to Lyla Diggle during the game, so when she suggested Felicity join her and her husband for drinks after, Felicity accepted without much thought. While she was hesitant to blur the lines of work and pleasure, she really wasn't worried the Diggle's would be a PR issue.

Felicity had done her homework and thoroughly researched every player, but nothing in John Diggle's file indicated how funny Lyla was - that wasn't expected given her profession. Lyla was a trauma therapist, and a very well-respected one. Yet as they sat at the Garden, Felicity hadn't thought about that, Lyla had put her completely at ease with her quick wit and self-deprecating humor.

So here she was, in a basement level dive bar to meet the Diggle's for a post-game cocktail. Lyla had explained that _Ernie's_ was not a popular spot or a trendy location; in fact, she was amazed it even stayed open. The players often came because no one cared about them there, they could relax. Sure the occasional puck bunny found out about it, but they could always be handled.

The tables were old, scarred, and bolted to the floor as if in anticipation of a fight. The walls were - grey maybe? Sports memorabilia hung scattered throughout but other than that, there was a pool table and what appeared to be an actual juke box. It was definitely not the kind of place she imagined the Diggle's spending time in.

Scanning the dim interior, Felicity spotted Lyla sitting at the bar right away, she was chatting up the bartender like they were old friends. That wasn't surprising now that Felicity had spent time with the engaging woman, Lyla must make friends everywhere.

In contrast, Felicity tended to keep to herself; she had very few people in her life she trusted. She had a best friend and a brother she adored, but sadly, she rarely saw either of them. Yet, here she was, actually looking forward to a night with a couple she barely knew yet already felt comfortable with. It was strange but ... nice.

Sensing her new friend's entrance, Lyla waved her over to sit in one of the many empty stools at the bar. Felicity was glad she opted for casual-wear to the game, jeans and a long sleeve T were just about right for this place.

"The guys should be here soon." Lyla asked, "What would you like to drink?"

' _Guys,' as in plural?_

Felicity wasn't sure what that meant, John Diggle and who else? "Ah, I'll take a Merlot."

Hearing the new patron, the bartender 'hmph'd' as if displeased with her drink choice and set off on his task.

Felicity hoped for nonchalance as she asked, "Who else besides John is coming?"

Inwardly Lyla smiled. "If it was just any game, it might be one or two of them, but since they beat the Devil's, it will be nearly the whole team."

Lyla expelled an unexpected, prolonged sigh before explaining, "They came here four years ago after beating the Devils and then went on a nine game winning streak. Since then, they've come here every time they beat the Devils and sure enough, they always go on a winning streak. Now it's superstition."

Felicity smiled at the exasperated tone Lyla used with the word "superstition." It was well known that hockey players had some seriously weird ones; many professional sports players did, but hockey players took it to a whole new level.

While Felicity wasn't thrilled with the idea of more people, she knew she'd need to meet the other players at some point, so she might as well make the most of it. She'd stay for a brief period of time and then leave, it just wasn't appropriate.

And more than that, it made her uncomfortable.

Lyla watched as Felicity changed right in front of her. At the game she'd gotten the somewhat shy woman to relax, laugh even, but with the mention of other players joining them, it was like a shutter went down.

She gently touched her arm, "Are you okay? You don't look happy."

Felicity felt bad, it wasn't Lyla's fault. "Oh no, I'm fine."

Knowing enough about nonverbal communication to read Felicity was uneasy, Lyla began to apologize. "I'm sorry-"

Both of their heads spun at the sound of the door bursting open. A group of men came collectively through the door, almost falling over each other in their exuberance.

Even if she didn't already know facts about every player on the Highlander's, Felicity would have known this group of men was unusual. They were all wearing suits -expensive ones - to a hole-in-the-wall bar.

They stood out.

The one in the front, all but being shoved toward the bar by the others, was rookie Roy Harper; he'd gotten a hat trick tonight and was currently sporting a Broadway hat as was customary.

"Yo, Mikey!"

Felicity watched as Derek Kraig, supreme party-boy and comedian of the Highlanders hailed the bartender from just over Roy's shoulder.

"Harper here needs a shot" he flicked the rookie's hat, "Actually, make that 3!"

"And a place to change into his stupid hoodie," added a faceless voice coming from the mass of jubilant players behind the embarrassed winger.

"What he doesn't need, are condoms." This came from Oliver Queen, the last of about fifteen men to enter the dive-bar, "He has enough of those."

Felicity watched as the Captain circled to the front of the group to playfully cuff the rookie on his shoulder, a giant grin on his face. Felicity could almost see the 'ping' sparkle off his teeth like in a toothpaste add.

The man was gorgeous.

He wore a well-tailored, dark suit with a crisp white shirt - collar open. His light blue tie hung haphazardly around his neck; he hadn't wasted a second to rid himself of the constraining fabric.

And then, like a magnet, his head turned and his eyes collided with hers.

And held.

Oliver was caught off-guard. He wasn't prepared to see his new handler sitting at the bar, nor was he prepared for how she looked.

Her long blonde hair was down, wavy. Her lips were painted red to match her oh-so-snug-fitting long-sleeved T-shirt. That T was hugging assets he hadn't been able to see under her suit jacket yesterday. Her jeans didn't leave much to the imagination either, in fact, he was relatively certain if she stood, her T wouldn't quite reach that belt she had on. Oliver couldn't fathom how she could walk in those spike heeled boots either - but he could imagine other things.

_Shit._

The last thing he needed was to see this woman in any other way than as a colleague. They'd reached a truce yesterday, he was going to play nice, and she was going to try to keep things simple for him. He actually left their meeting feeling lighter.

Now here he was, talking about condoms in front of her. _Again_.

Felicity watched as he gave her the signature male chin-lift in greeting, she nodded in return ... and then turned to Lyla in casual dismissal. Only that didn't go as planned as Lyla was now kissing her husband in greeting, clearly the two were still in love after ten years. They weren't engaged in some passionate kiss, but it was still...personal.

And awkward for her to watch.

As she started to swivel the other way and take her chances with whoever was nearby, the Diggle's broke their kiss and turned to her. John smiled sheepishly, "Hey Felicity, sorry, good to see you again."

There was something about the man, he was physically enormous yet completely unthreatening and just so easy to be around, "You too, John."

The powerful defender nodded to her wine glass on the bar, "I see you have a drink already, otherwise I'd get you one."

It was clear the players had gathered closer judging by the way she had to raise her voice in reply. "Your wife did the honors, so thank you."

It was silly on her part, but she couldn't bring herself to look. Maybe if she sat still, she'd become invisible.

Oblivious to her discomfort, she felt someone press closer to her from behind, she was thankful the stool had a high back. A male voice, tinged with a Russian accent came from just over her shoulder. "Who's your, friend, Maximus?"

Just like superstitions, the NHL was also riddled with nicknames and Diggle's was an ode to the family man and warrior that Russell Crowe played in The Gladiator.

Air escaped John in a laugh; the Russian's attempt at an introduction was lame. "Andrei, this is Felicity Smoak. Felicity, Andrei Koval." He added with emphasis, "She _works_ with us now, in the PR department."

Andrei was unfazed, and rounded to Felicity's front. _Closely_. "Nice to meet you, Ms. Smoak."

Felicity forced a smile and shook his hand, noting he didn't feel the need to put in his false front tooth tonight. "You too." She added with feigned sweetness, "Will your girlfriend be joining us?"

Having a file on all the players sometimes paid off. Felicity knew Andrei was dating a Victoria's Secret model.

The six-foot wall of muscle's face fell; he looked like a 5 year-old who lost his favorite teddy bear. Swallowing a lump in his throat, his voice hitched. "She broke up with me two weeks ago."

Felicity instantly felt terrible, it was clear the man was sincere. "Oh no, I am so sorry. I-

Oliver was suddenly there, clapping Andrei on the shoulder, "Hey buddy, Kraig's looking for a pool partner, why don't you go join him."

Surprising all of them, the Russian leaned over the bar and nabbed a bottle from behind it, pouring a shot directly in his mouth. Slowly he shuffled off, bottle in hand, doing as his Captain suggested.

This left the four of them. Others lingered nearby, talking amongst themselves.

Felicity blurted, "I feel so bad, maybe I should go apologize."

Oliver waved off her idea, "Don't worry about him. We each take shifts with him."

Before she knew what was happening, Oliver briefly leaned into her space, his chest inches from her eyes as he took the beer the bartender offered his regular without prompting.

_Damn he smelled good._

Returning to stand between she and Diggle, Oliver rested one hand on the back of her stool and asked with a bit of an edge, "So, what brings you here, Felicity?"

She was temporarily fascinated by the way his Adam's apple moved as he swallowed his sip of beer.

Then his tone registered and she responded in kind. "Lyla invited me."

"We had such a great time at the game; I thought it would be fun to have her join us." Lyla added.

Oliver's close-lipped grin was strained as he nodded in response, his eyes hard as they looked idly around the bar - anywhere but at the woman in front of him.

Felicity could take a hint; she put her mostly full wine glass back on the bar. "I'll get going," she stood, "I don't want to intrude on your downtime."

Lyla stared wide-eyed at Oliver, like a mother chastising her son for bad manners.

Oliver stared back.

After too long, Lyla's features fell, turning from anger to sad disappointment.

Oliver winced, he couldn't stand letting Lyla down, she was like a sister to him.

He was such an ass, why did he keep acting this way?

Annoyed at his own behavior, Oliver sidestepped to block Felicity's retreat and apologize...only they smacked into each other, head to head. _Hard._

Oliver used his free hand to steady her as they each reached to soothe their now throbbing heads.

"God, Felicity, I am so sorry. I meant to apologize, not make things worse."

Felicity could sense his sincerity and wanted to acknowledge the olive branch, she decided to do so by poking fun at herself. "It's okay, stuff like this happens to me all the time."

Oliver's lips twitched, he'd noticed her awkwardness minutes after they'd met and he found her self-awareness amusing. He also appreciated her quick forgiveness.

Seeing his amusement, Felicity teased, "I get why it hurts me, but I thought hockey players were supposed to be tough."

Oliver gestured to the seat she'd just left and hoped to reciprocate her light banter. "At least finish your drink." As she sat, he leaned closer and whispered, "But if you're staying, I may just run back quick and get my helmet."

Felicity couldn't stop her laugh from escaping, even as it caused the throbbing to return.

Engrossed in their own amusement, neither noticed Lyla Diggle's clearly pleased visage, or her husband's don't-get-any-ideas glare in return.

Lyla just patted his cheek.

* * *

The next hour passed quickly, Felicity slowly sipping her wine as the Diggle's playfully teased each other and discussed the game. They really were a fun couple.

Oliver kept drifting in and out of their conversation, spending time with his teammates but always circling back to them. At the moment, he was across the room consoling the sad Russian.

Felicity glanced at her watch, it was late, and she really shouldn't be spending too much time socializing. Thus far she'd managed to stay with the Diggle's and keep herself removed, but she really shouldn't tempt fate.

Just as she began to stand, the bartender put another glass of Merlot in front of her.

She was just about to say she didn't order it when Roy Harper took the empty stool on the other side of her. She glanced nervously to the Diggle's but they had turned to talk to one of John's fellow blue liners, Kevin Aldrich.

Sensing her hesitation, Roy apologized, "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable, I just wanted to buy you a drink and introduce myself."

Felicity wasn't sure what to be more shocked by, the fact his words weren't slurring given his three shots and beer chaser, or the fact he appeared genuinely sorry, upset even.

"It's okay, Mr. Harper, I appreciate the gesture but I really can't be accepting a drink from you."

The moment she'd used his full name he appeared to pull back.

"You know my name?"

Thinking she might as well get it over with, she explained. "I'm Felicity Smoak. I work for the Highlanders in the Public Relations Department."

Roy flinched at her job assignment, "Listen, I'm really a good guy. I swear people catch things with their cell phones that look bad but are completely innocent."

Her amused disbelief was obvious. "So the shot of you dancing on the bar while women poured vodka down your shirtless torso was," she openly mocked, "innocent?"

Roy had the good sense to look embarrassed. "Okay, that actually happened, but I blame my best-friend from growing up; he was excited I got drafted by the Highlanders."

Felicity pursed her smiling lips and simply nodded.

Roy took a deep breath, "Let's start again. I'm Roy Harper," he stuck out his hand to shake, "And while I have done some less than intelligent things in the past, I swear I don't anymore." He gestured around the bar as if indicating tonight was a good example.

Felicity did her best to appear professional yet kind, "I appreciate your efforts, Roy." She pointed to the drink he'd bought her, "But I really can't mix work with pleasure."

"You're not working right now, you're off the clock."

Felicity hesitantly agreed, "Yes, that's true, however, imagine if someone in here takes a picture of us talking and it makes the morning paper." She shrugged, "I'd lose my job."

Roy scanned the room, "I know everyone in here, that's why we come here. There are no outsiders. Plus, unless we were doing something like...well, let's just say us sitting and talking isn't exciting enough to make the papers."

She had to admit the guy was attractive, and when he turned that million-dollar smile on he was downright hot, but he played for the team. She had to find a way to let him down.

"Harper!"

Both Felicity and Roy turned at the sound of Oliver's approaching voice.

Oliver grinned at Roy, "It's your turn with Andrei."

Roy sighed, his posture deflated. Turning back to Felicity he made a final attempt. "Sorry," his gaze softened as he asked hopefully, "Can we talk another time?"

Before Felicity could answer, Oliver leaned in and whispered in the rookie's ear. Roy's gaze flickered to Felicity before he blushed, nodded, and then simply stood and walked away.

Felicity's brows pulled in confusion, "What did you say to him?"

"Sorry, I got the impression you weren't interested so I sent him away."

"Yes, I mean no." Felicity shook her head as if to clear it, "I wasn't interested and was trying to tell him that but, I'd like to know what you told him."

Oliver leaned one arm on the bar next to her; the other loosely gripped his bottle. "I just reminded him of the no fraternizing policy and that he really couldn't afford any more trouble."

Not entirely sure she believed him, but deciding not to push, Felicity merely nodded.

Then his other words played again in her mind, "How could you tell I wasn't interested?"

Oliver's eyes scanned her body, "You were just really...stiff, you looked uncomfortable."

Felicity wasn't sure why, but the way his eyes just ran the length of her body made her ten times more uncomfortable - but she was not going to show it. Then there was the way he casually leaned on the bar, it brought him closer to her and she could feel his warmth and smell his damn fine cologne again.

Mentally she slapped herself and refocused, a change of topic was warranted. "So I told the organizer for the Gala you'd be there tomorrow night." Assuming he'd be disgruntled she added, "You don't have to stay long, just say a few words, mingle a bit and you can make your exit."

Oliver expressed his agreement, "It's not a problem."

When Felicity saw the request came across her desk for a player or players to attend the Children's Adventure Place fundraiser, she knew it was a no brainer. That was why she originally sought Oliver out in the lounge the day before. After their truce she'd brought up the invitation and he'd surprised her by saying he was already going. Lyla Diggle was on the board and she had _told_ him he'd be going - with affection of course.

"Do you have your speech prepared?" Felicity inquired.

Oliver shook his head, "I don't mind public speaking, I can wing it."

Felicity couldn't hide her horror, "No, no you can't." With annoyance she huffed, "I'll draft something tomorrow and email it to you before the event. You can send me back any revisions and I'll bring the final copy with me to the Gala."

Oliver pushed off the bar, he wasn't sure what pissed him off more.

"So let me get this straight; not only do you think I am an idiot and can't write my own speech, but you feel the need to come babysit me at a _charity event_? What the hell do you think I'd do there?"

Felicity couldn't help but notice Oliver's raised voice drew a few curious stares, including the Diggle's.

She laughed loudly as if it was some kind of inside joke between them and Oliver was playacting. Through gritted teeth she ordered, "Lower your voice, everyone is staring."

Belatedly Oliver looked around and noticed she was right, he feigned a laugh himself like it was all a joke before gently taking Felicity by the arm and guiding _,_ _pulling_ , her to a more isolated corner.

Again neither noticed the Diggle's interchange.

John knew his friend and that little spat was real. He started after the duo to play peacemaker but his wife put a restraining hand on his arm and shook her head. She wanted to see how this played out but also needed his help distracting others from focusing on the pair in the corner.

With the fake smile still painted on her face, Felicity bit off, "I never said you were an idiot, it is part of my job to draft these speeches - or at the very least edit the ones you all write yourselves."

She inched closer, "And contrary to what you think, the world does not revolve around you, Oliver. I sent in my RSVP three weeks ago, long before I was assigned to you. I do have a life outside of work, you know."

He had problems.

For some reason he had the habit of becoming a complete asshole around this woman, and for another, with her this close, he couldn't keep track of what she was saying.

When she stood he'd discovered his early assumptions were right, her shirt didn't quite touch her jeans and a ribbon of her soft-looking skin was left exposed.

The tips of his fingers itched to trace what he knew would be it's silky surface.

Her eyes were a brilliant blue and they shimmered with anger, her lips looked so damn full, never mind the way her chest was rising and falling with the exertion of her frustrated breaths.

She was so close...

"I'll send you a draft in the morning. Look for it, Oliver."

He didn't have time to gather his thoughts before she was gone. She'd grabbed her coat, said a terse goodbye to the Diggle's, and left.

_Shit._

Oliver was still staring at the door she'd left through when the Diggle's approached.

"That went well." John remarked dryly.

"Very smooth, Oliver." Lyla added.

He turned his gaze to them, "I seem to piss her off regularly."

The couple nodded in unison.

"This is going to be a difficult working relationship."

Lyla smirked, "Maybe you should consider the idea that it could be more than just work?"

Oliver's response was quick and irritated, "What are you talking about, Lyla? She's an employee of the organization and is temporarily assigned to _me_. We work together, that's it."

Lyla feigned agreement but her words contradicted, "If you say so. Though I couldn't help but notice your eyes tracked her all night, constantly checking in on who she talked to. And what exactly did you tell Roy to make him go away?"

Oliver cleared his throat uncomfortably.

She wasn't done, "And I am pretty sure during that last exchange, I saw you staring at her...assets."

Oliver glared at John for help. He merely held up his hands as if to say there was nothing he could do. It didn't help Oliver's irritation that his best friend was laughing as well.

The Captain expelled a frustrated breath, "Yes, she's attractive, Lyla, I'll admit that. But so are a million other women that _don't_ work for the organization. I don't play where I work, and vice versa."

The emphatic way Oliver uttered those words let Lyla know now was not the time to push, so she acquiesced, nodding as if the subject was closed and she believed him.

Oliver turned on his heel and rejoined his fellow players, doing his best to put aside Lyla's words but struggling.

John wrapped his arm around his wife's shoulders as they watched their friend, he already knew the answer but asked anyway. "This is going to get interesting, isn't it?"

Lyla affirmed, "I do believe it is."

John smiled. "If I know Oliver like I think I do, he's pissed he's attracted to her and even more pissed she's got him off balance."

Lyla smiled. This Gala was going to be fascinating.


	4. Chapter 4

 

* * *

Moira Queen had enough of her son's quiet brooding.

"I can see your mind working, Oliver. What is going on?"

With a prolonged inhalation of breath, Oliver pulled his unfocused gaze from the endless blur of city lights outside the back window of their chauffeured car. Turning to his mother, he gently covered her hand with his and exhaled. "Just thinking."

Rather than a limo as his mother suggested, Oliver opted for a generic car service to bring them both to the Gala. His invitation included a 'plus one,' and he decided his Mom would fit the bill. Moira Queen, CEO of Queen Consolidated, was a fixture at events like these. Oliver knew he could ask her on short notice and she'd have a plethora of 'black tie required' dresses in her closet. He also knew she'd be sitting home alone otherwise; Walter was out of town meeting with a potential new investor for the Highlanders.

Maternal instinct was nothing to sneeze at, and Moira's was telling her to pry a little. "I can tell that, Oliver." She dipped her head, trying to catch the attention of his gaze. "But can you elaborate?"

His sigh could have set records.

"I was reviewing the speech for tonight that Feli-" he grimaced, "that the PR person sent me, and it just made me think about how I grew up."

Moira wasn't entirely sure where to start, Felicity Smoak, or Oliver's obvious guilt over his wealth - something he's struggled with for as long as she could remember. He didn't get A's and B's at Yale because he was a Queen, nor did he get to skip all of those 5am games and practices growing up. He did everything everyone else did, but he still felt 'different.'

Moira rubbed his hand, "I wish there was something I could say, you've always beaten yourself up for this - even if I disagreed. You've worked hard for everything you've ever gotten."

Oliver rolled his eyes, chuckling lovingly at his mother's predictable response. He could almost hear her internal dialogue about his grades at Yale and how hard he worked at hockey - she'd just leave out the parts about his tutors and his custom-made hockey gear.

"Sorry, mother, didn't mean to start the night morose."

Not knowing how to get through to her son on this topic, one that had surfaced many times in his life, Moira chose to tackle something else.

She took a deep breath, preparing for his irritation, "Walter told me, Oliver," she paused, making sure he was really listening, "I know about Felicity Smoak."

Oliver's eyes narrowed.

Moira jumped to defend, "Don't be mad at him, he's in a tough position owning the team and... being with me."

Oliver gave yet another audible sigh as his free hand scrubbed his face, he knew this was true.

Ever since his father had died, Oliver only wanted the best for his mother - and that included the men she dated. He'd expect her partner to trust her with everything, even his work issues; it just sucked that that man happened to be his employer.

Reluctantly Oliver responded, "I get it, I do." He shook his head in self-directed frustration, "I just wish the whole thing wasn't necessary."

"I know." She braced herself again, wondering how far she could push. "I love you Oliver, but you haven't been yourself. Did Laurel really affect you that deeply?"

He laughed lightly and shook his head, "You know, I wish I could say she did. I really thought she was the one. But when I look back, I was deluding myself, she never was." He returned to staring idly out the window. "I have no idea why I've been so stupid."

Having no answer to that herself, Moira tried to move forward rather than speculate on the past. "Well it has only been a brief period. As long as you keep it together from here on out, your PR shadow should be short term."

Oliver gave a disbelieving grunt. "I hope so; I seem to piss the woman off every time I see her. I think she'll be happy to be done with me."

Moira startled, "Really? I always thought of her as meek."

Oliver's head whipped back, his gazed honed in on his mother. "You know her?"

Moira jostled her head side to side, "Not really, I just knew her when she was a child - and so did you, not that either of you would remember. She and her family lived by us until her mother died. Her father took her to Texas when she was six."

Something distasteful began to stir in Oliver's stomach; he knew only one family that fit that description. "Texas?"

Moira looked surprised, "Yes. Didn't Walter tell you? She's Senator Markham's daughter. That's how Walter heard about her."

* * *

Oliver sipped the ice cool water he'd gotten from the top-shelf bar, passing on the alcohol since he had a speech to give - a speech prepared by Senator Markham's daughter.

_How the hell had Walter not told him that?_

Obviously the woman had changed her last name. On the way here, his mother informed him Smoak was the maiden name of Felicity's mother. He also learned his own mother felt the same way about Senator Markham as he did - the guy was a dick.

Oliver had never told his mother, but about six years ago he had a run in with the Senator.

At one of his mother's various fundraising events held in their home, he'd overheard the ignorant ass talking about Moira to his cronies. The blowhard had been in town for some event at the UN and decided to "swing by" their party. The fool had too much to drink and in graphic detail, told his cronies what he wanted to do with his widowed hostess. Naturally offended on his mother's behalf, but not wanting to upset her party, Oliver waited until he had the man alone and confronted him - with his fist.

The old bastard blubbered about pressing charges until Oliver bluffed and said he had witnesses to the man's earlier crass remarks about his mother. Oliver implied his witnesses would be more than happy to go to the press with the Senator's vulgar comments. It was a stalemate. Choosing the wiser path, the Senator decided to leave and slunk out the kitchen entrance with a bloody nose.

That was the last Oliver had heard of the man until recent news reports rumored the Senator would be moving back to New York after finishing his term in Texas. Some speculated he wanted to run for Governor here, others said he wanted to retire in his deceased wife's home state. Either way, Oliver wished he'd stay the hell away.

And now he finds out the man's daughter is his handler. What shit luck. Though, if his mother's speculation was right, she may feel the same way about her father as they did. Granted that was merely a guess because she'd changed her name. Maybe she just didn't want to be linked to a Senator? Or she missed her mother? Who the hell knew.

But he was going to find out.

Oliver had his security head looking into her; he'd called him shortly after leaving the player's lounge the other day. While the answers he sought might take time, he could try to get a few on his own while he waited. Oliver needed to know for certain this woman was truly on his side and not an extension of her father. Though his gut was telling him his mother was right, Felicity seemed absolutely nothing like her father - and his gut was rarely wrong.

Pulled from his thoughts by his vibrating phone, Oliver removed it from his pocket. The woman must have a sixth sense; it was a text from Felicity.

" _I'll be there in five minutes; do you have the final draft?"_

" _Yes, all set. Looks good."_

" _Great. I got an advance list of the seating assignments; you and your date are at table 12."_

He hadn't even seen her and was already annoyed. He was more than capable of figuring this out himself.

" _Yes, Felicity, I know. I've been able to read since I was 6 and figured it out all by myself. And you'll be happy to know my Mom's my date."_

" _No need to be cranky, I was just trying to be helpful. And by any chance did you hear who else was SUPPOSED to be at your table? No? In that case I will tell you, aside from the Diggle's, the clueless person making the seating chart put you with Malcolm Merlin. You might know him; you beat his team last night and...well...you relieved yourself on his tires a few weeks ago."_

" _That's not funny."_

" _It wasn't a joke, trust me; when I am making one, I am very funny. You'll be happy to know I did some maneuvering and he's now sitting with Slade Wilson and Roy Harper is sitting with you. Don't complain. You're welcome."_

She was kind of funny.

" _And where will you be sitting?"_

" _Close enough to keep an eye on you...be afraid, be very afraid."_

Oliver chuckled.

"Is your phone that amusing?"

Oliver turned to see Lyla approaching. He pressed a kiss to her cheek before taking a step back to admire her floor-length formfitting black dress; he gave an appreciative whistle.

"Not so bad yourself, handsome." She tugged playfully on one side of his bow tie. She gestured to the phone he was still holding, "What had you smiling."

Oliver tucked his phone back in his pocket; manners were drilled into him by his mother. "Just a text from Felicity."

Lyla tried to bite back her smile, she wasn't successful.

Remembering her words from the night before, Oliver shook his head, "Do not get any ideas, Lyla."

Lyla nodded firmly and changed the subject. She knew she needed to take baby steps with him. "Where's your Mom?"

Oliver gestured to the far corner of the elaborately decorated grand ball room, just next to the string quartet whose light music soothed the rough edges of cocktail hour chatter. "She has a slew of friends here, hence why she agreed to be my date."

Lyla scanned the well-appointed room, locating Moira before taking in the opulence of the fundraiser. Pictures of this night would surely grace a few papers and magazines, reporters were peppered throughout the room just as celebrities and athletes were. The ballroom had been decorated with a single donation by a benefactor, but it could have easily competed with a high-end Hollywood gala.

"That's good, she'll have fun. So who are we-" Lyla stopped abruptly.

Oliver turned to look at Lyla, wondering why she quieted. He followed her gaze and saw the man she was staring at.

"Yeah, that guy isn't my favorite either. I didn't vote for him."

Refocusing on their conversation, Lyla responded, "I did. I wish now I didn't, but I did. I wonder if Felicity knows he's going to be here."

Oliver's brow quirked, "Felicity? Why would she care?"

Lyla had the same look of surprise on her face as his mother did earlier. "Didn't you know? She used to work for Congressman Blood, she quit at the height of his campaign."

It was Oliver's turn to be surprised, and irritated. "How is it you and my mother know more about this woman than I do?" He added incredulously, "And she's working with me!"

Lyla patted his arm patronizingly, "Because we're women, far superior beings."

John joined them with a drink in hand for his wife. "What are we talking about?"

Oliver asked, "Did you know Felicity worked for Congressman Blood?"

He nodded as if it was old news.

"And you didn't think I should know?"

John's smile was nearly indiscernible, "Why would you care? Do you keep a master list of some kind? You know who everyone in the organization worked for before us?"

"That's not the same and you know it. She was hired to work with me."

John just shrugged and inclined his head toward Sebastian Blood who was currently shaking hands with everyone he saw. "I wonder why she quit though, seems like it would be a good gig working for a Congressman."

Yet another piece to the Felicity puzzle.

Just as Oliver tried to examine some of those pieces - in particular her political affiliations - the woman in question entered through the ballroom doors.

She was stunning.

One shoulder bared, the other draped by the cobalt blue fabric that angled across her chest and did some kind of criss cross thing at her waist before it met the flowing bottom half of her dress. Her hair was partially pulled back, exposing her neck which was adorned with sparkling stones of some kind that matched the ones dangling from her ears.

Unconsciously, Oliver started toward her, she hadn't seen them yet.

Her eyes were painted smoky but not too much, he hated that; her lips a light pink. She looked exquisite.

And then suddenly very, very angry.

Before Oliver reached her, he saw her take off.

She came to a halt next to a woman who had been part of the Congressman's entourage but had kept herself off to the side. The two engaged in what looked to be a heated conversation - at least Felicity looked heated, the other woman looked apologetic.

"Lyla will find out what's going on."

Oliver hadn't noticed John rejoin him, but right then he saw Lyla gently glide toward Felicity, stopping to talk to someone else close by.

"Is she eavesdropping?"

"Of course she is." John answered matter of fact.

"Felicity looks seriously ticked off."

John muttered his agreement and then added, "She also looks beautiful."

She did, but Oliver was hesitant to say that to anyone.

There was no time for further discussion as the Emcee for the night came over the speakers and the string quartet quieted. "Ladies and gentlemen, if you could all take your seats."

With their eyes still following Felicity, Oliver and John hesitantly headed toward their seats, clear across the grand ball room.

When they reached their table, Lyla was shortly behind them and reported quickly before any others could join them. "All I heard was something about the Congressman changed plans last minute; he wasn't supposed to be here tonight. It seemed like Felicity confirmed this with the woman she was talking to, hence why she was angry."

They were all processing this tidbit when Oliver shook his head to clear it, he barely knew the woman and needed to stay out of it. "They obviously must not get along but it really isn't any of our business."

He grabbed the rolls in front of him, oblivious to the looks exchanged between the Diggle's.

As he began to spread his butter, his mother approached.

"Ollie, do you mind if I sit at a different table? I ran into Isabel Rochev from Queen Consolidated's accounting department. She's one of three people gunning to be our next CFO and I want to get to know her a bit."

Oliver smiled, use to his mother's endless social/business meetings. "No, that's fine. But save me a dance later."

With an affectionate squeeze, Moira left to join a table nearby.

Drink in hand; Roy Harper joined them with a graceless flop into the chair next to John, leaving four empty seats between him and Oliver. "What's with the extra chairs? Where's your date, Cap?"

Oliver noted the empty chair next to Roy, "Somewhere with yours?"

The rookie smiled, "I was a last minute addition to this party, I didn't have time."

Oliver just shook his head and grinned, he was getting used to the kid.

That explained two of the empty chairs, someone else must be joining them. Just as the thought went through his mind, a woman approached their table.

Her dress was white, her body - drool worthy, but her clinging dress didn't leave much to the imagination and that left a bit of a sour taste in Oliver's mouth, he preferred some intrigue.

She also looked really familiar.

"Are any of these seats taken?" The curvaceous brunette asked.

Automatically all three men started to stand, manners not just bred into Oliver.

"No, none." Oliver replied graciously, indicating she could take any of the seats as they all returned to theirs.

The woman took an isolated one, leaving chairs between both her and Oliver, and her and Roy.

John stood, waving to a nearby server.

Politely John asked their new addition, "Is anyone joining you?"

She shook her head.

As the wait staff approached, John asked, "Can we have a few of these chairs removed," he gestured to the one empty next to Oliver, "Maybe just leave one extra in case Mrs. Queen comes back to join us."

His request was immediately granted and the table guests began shifting their chairs and place settings, making it less awkward for everyone.

Their newest guest, now seated next to Roy, introduced herself to the table. "Hi, I'm Haley."

Roy snapped his fingers as if suddenly realizing something, "Haley, Haley Reynolds, right? You're on that crime show."

She blushed, "Yes, that's right. I'm sorry, I don't think we've met before though. You are?"

Roy's grin broadened, "I'm Roy, Roy Harper."

"Nice to meet you, Roy."

She glanced at the rest of the table's occupants, in particular John and Oliver, "Please don't think I am rude, but you both look familiar and I can't quite figure it out."

John smiled politely, "No worries there, we wouldn't expect you to. I'm John Diggle, this is my beautiful wife, Lyla."

Both women nodded their greeting.

Oliver extended his hand over the empty chair between them and added, "I'm Oliver Queen."

Recognition set in, "Hockey players, right? Highlanders?"

Roy chimed in, licking his wounds that she hadn't recognized him. "Yep, that's us. We all play for the Highlanders."

Before conversation could go any further, three wait staff arrived with salads, placing one in front of each of them with what seemed like coordinated dance moves.

The next half hour progressed with pleasantries between bites of salad as the quartet now played light dinner music.

The Diggle's noticed Oliver's gaze straying from the table from time to time, glancing around the room. He'd nodded to Slade Wilson at one point who mouthed "you're welcome" in return. The coach was clearly keeping Malcolm Merlin entertained and away from Oliver.

Lyla leaned closer to Oliver and whispered, "She's over there."

Oliver's eyes followed the direction Lyla's fork pointed but didn't see anything; he then leaned a bit closer to Lyla and saw who she was referring to. Felicity was sitting quietly at a table, head down and seemingly not talking to any of her fellow partygoers.

He was just about to tell Lyla she was out of her mind when he saw the Congressman approach Felicity from behind. He placed his hands on her bare shoulders as if he had some kind of right. Oliver watched as Felicity startled, nearly jumped out of her skin and then froze; her skin paled.

That's all he needed to see. He had at least one answer, she definitely did not like the man and actually looked...afraid.

Tossing his napkin on the table, Oliver took ground eating steps toward her table, slowing himself just before arriving and painting an overly friendly smile on his face. "Sorry Congressmen Blood, just wanted to stop and introduce myself before grabbing Felicity. I'm Oliver, Oliver Queen, it's a pleasure to meet you."

Taken by surprise, the Congressman had no idea Oliver was there until one of his hands was forcibly removed from Felicity's shoulder to be shaken - firmly. The Congressman's eyes squinted, not quite sure the other man was being sincere. There was a smile on his face but his eyes appeared hard.

"Nice to meet you as well." Wanting to appear dominant in case his guess was right, Sebastian turned to fully face Oliver and took his other hand from Felicity in the process.

He stood straighter. "You're Captain Ollie, right? Winger for the Highlanders?"

Oliver noted he deliberately used the nickname the tabloid press had for him. He was clearly trying to be condescending.

Oliver winked as if unperturbed...and to return the condescension. "Yep, that's me."

Dismissing the asshole, Oliver took Felicity's hand from the table, noticing it trembled when he did so. She was frightened.

What the hell had happened between these two?

Oliver pulled her to stand, forcing the Congressman to take a step back or get hit by the chair. Completely ignoring the red-faced man, Oliver apologized to Felicity. "I'm sorry, I have no idea how you ended up over here." He pointed to the table the Diggle's were now watching raptly from, "We're all over there. See, your seat is open."

As if she read his lips, Lyla waved and then gestured to the empty seat next to Oliver's.

Turning back to face Felicity, Oliver made a show of looking her over head to foot before giving her his 1000-watt smile. "You look absolutely beautiful tonight, like always."

Ignoring the shock in her eyes, he leaned in and placed a kiss to her cheek like it was something he did often.

Using her hand to gently pull her to his opposite side, Oliver strategically placed himself between Felicity and the Congressman. Now standing side by side, he rested his hand on the small of what he discovered was Felicity's entirely exposed back. Not allowing himself to be distracted by the amazingly luxurious, silk feeling of her skin, Oliver muttered his apologies to the group at her table for stealing Felicity from them.

Wasting no further time, he laced his fingers through hers and began walking them back to his table. Felicity's steps faltered as she reached back to grab her handbag but she recovered quickly, matching Oliver's retreating steps.

Once seated at Oliver's table, Felicity was thankful the Emcee started speaking, it would mask the whispered conversation she wanted to have with Oliver. She asked through barely moving lips. "Would you like to tell me what the hell that was about?"

Oliver sipped his water, needing to cool his temper after the exchange with the Congressman. He spoke softly to Felicity, "You seemed distressed, I wanted to help."

Felicity sighed, she knew his intentions were probably good, but he had no idea what he'd done. She'd managed to avoid the Congressman for two months and this probably ruined that temporary peace. "I doubt that helped, you just poked a sleeping bear."

Oliver's gaze swung to hers, his brows pulled in concentration.

Roy, feeling left out and having no idea what happened since his back had been to the exchange interjected. "Hey Felicity, it's great to see you."

He was going to add how hot she looked - with more class than that - but didn't want to ruin his chances with Haley. Roy also knew after Oliver's tidbit of information last night, the flirtation would be wasted on her.

Felicity reluctantly directed her attention to Roy, not done with the conversation she wanted to have with Oliver, but knowing pleasantries were required. "Good to see you too, Roy." She looked to Haley with a forced smile, "Is this your date?"

Both seemed to sputter, Roy taking the lead, "Oh no, we all just met Haley tonight. You've probably seen her on TV."

The Emcee was working the audience and getting laughs, making it difficult to carry on any conversation which helped Felicity, she wasn't much interested in talking right then. She was shaky after the incident with Sebastian; and what _really_ annoyed her - she still felt the heat of Oliver's hand on her back even though it hadn't been there for minutes now.

When Felicity didn't respond to Roy, Haley chimed in to clarify. "Any woman would be lucky to be Roy's date but I'm not," she added casually, "I actually prefer women."

Roy's gaze flew to Haley, he then gestured between she and Felicity before he threw up his hands. "What are the chances?" He laughed, "I have no luck!"

Felicity cocked her head to the side, slightly confused. _What did Roy mean?_

Knowing where this was about to go and starting to feel some panic, Oliver tried to switch topics. "I think I'm about to be introduced."

Which was true, the Emcee was reading off his statistics from this season.

Oliver questioned Felicity, "Any last minute advice?"

She was completely confused. She'd just had her first run in with Sebastian since she fled, Oliver had outright flirted with her and implied to Sebastian they had a relationship of some kind, and as if that wasn't distracting enough, Roy was trying to communicate something she didn't get.

Apparently Haley was the only one the conversation was making sense too, she had understood Roy perfectly. She turned to Felicity, "You're gay as well?"

Roy nodded happily, shifting gears thinking he may as well be a match maker if he couldn't have either of the women himself.

Felicity shook her head, "Ah-sorry, no."

"You're not?!" Roy sounded shocked.

Felicity addressed him, "No, why did you think I was?"

Roy looked accusingly at Oliver, "Last night, you said -"

" _Please welcome our keynote speaker, Oliver Queen!"_

All eyes at the table were now directed at Oliver, and thankfully so were the entire room's as the spotlight hit him.

Grateful for his reprieve, Oliver pointed to the podium, "Sorry, gotta go."

* * *

Muttering to herself, Felicity made her way to the ladies room. While she wanted to personally strangle Oliver, he did give a fantastic speech.

Once she had gotten over her seething rage at his antics the past two nights, she started to actually listen to him and was impressed. He'd taken what she'd written and made it better - not that she'd tell him. While he had stuck to the script they had developed, he made it much more personable with his delivery. Oliver had been humble, grateful, funny, and inspiring.

If she hadn't had a hand in his success tonight, she would have thrown up in her mouth at how perfect he was.

Making her way out of the ballroom into the facility's gleaming, two-story marble grand vestibule, she continued mumbling her irritation before eventually crossing through the mouth of the corridor that led to the bathrooms. Distracted by her own thoughts, she didn't hear any footsteps behind her, she should have known better.

"Are you fucking him?"

Felicity froze, knowing and hating that voice.

Swallowing the fear that rose in her, Felicity pulled herself together. They were in public, he wouldn't take any risks here. Slowly she turned to face him. "Really, Sebastian? You want to do this now?"

His humorless laugh mocked, "Like you care. You all but lifted your skirt like a dog in heat for Queen at the table. Don't pretend you have class now."

Scanning to be certain no one else was nearby, Felicity bit back. "What happens or doesn't happen between me and any other man is absolutely none of your business."

Sebastian quickly closed the distance between them, crowding Felicity against the wall as he all but spit, "Yes it is. It was before, and it still is now. You. Are. Mine."

To make his point, he grabbed her wrist, squeezing it with enough force she nearly yelled.

"You can think you are free, little girl, but you're not. You are mine and in time," he lowered his voice in a pathetic attempt to appear civilized, "you will realize it too and come back."

"You are insane, I _hate_ you."

He loosened his grip on her hand but pushed his body into hers, forcing her up on her toes as he pinned her against the wall. "There was a time that wasn't true, Felicity; you used to worship me."

Felicity's teeth clenched, hating there was truth in those words and hating even more that she'd been so deceived. "Those days are _long_ gone, Sebastian. Get your hands off of me or -"

"Or what, Felicity?" Sebastian mocked.

Neither had seen him approach, but Oliver had heard more than enough.

His voice was flat, cold, and laced with an eerie calm. "Or I will hurt you...and I will do it in ways you've never imagined."

Sebastian instantly pulled back from Felicity to face his new threat, making her body slump a bit as it slid back down the wall.

He prowled toward Oliver. "What are you going to do, Queen? Cross check me?"

Oliver's posture was deceptively calm, hands in his pockets; but his grin was predatory. "Why don't we step outside and find out?"

"No, Oliver, please. He isn't worth it."

Oliver heard Felicity's words, but he was fixated on Sebastian and knew what he was doing. Ironically he'd learned this lesson years ago with Felicity's father. He just needed the asshole a few steps closer so he'd join him in the main vestibule.

Sebastian briefly looked back over his shoulder at Felicity, his expression promising future retribution. He then closed the distance between him and Oliver. "Enjoy her now, Queen. She'll get bored of you shortly and move on."

Oliver winked and gave his best arrogant smile. "Maybe you just sucked in bed."

Sebastian's face reddened, he shoved Oliver in the chest, sending him back a few feet. "You can have the whore."

It all happened too quick. Felicity could do nothing to stop it, even as she screamed, "Nooooo!"

_Sebastian's body guards exited the ballroom into the vestibule ... followed by a camera man from the Daily News._

_Oliver regained his balance and swung - his fist making brutal, bone crushing contact with Sebastian's face..._

_The flash went off._.


	5. Chapter 5

* * *

The only sound in the Queen's spacious living room, was that of the logs hissing and popping in the fireplace. Felicity's gaze was fixed on them, entranced by the dancing flames licking over them. She'd been shown to this room by the Queen's housekeeper a few minutes earlier to wait for Oliver and his mother - they'd been whisked away from the disastrous Gala in a different car.

Despite the warmth radiating from the beautiful fireplace, Felicity still felt chilled - though it was most likely her mood. She'd give anything to erase the previous hours.

Moments after Oliver's fist made contact with Sebastian's jaw and all hell broke loose, the group of them were hustled to a private security room off the main lobby of the function hall. She, Oliver, Sebastian, Sebastian's entourage, and the Daily News reporter were all trotted in like naughty school children - which they'd deserved. The facility had it's own security and they'd seen the exchange on their video monitors and knew they had to intervene.

Quickly.

Once inside, Felicity sent word to have Oliver's mother retrieved as well; she'd hoped the woman would be a calming influence on Oliver. Unfortunately - or fortunately depending how you looked at it - Moira missed the majority of the debacle, only coming in at the tail end after things had already been resolved.

It had been a commotion-filled frenzy of shouts and accusations at first, but after some blustering and posturing, they eventually reached a three-way agreement; one that made her stomach acids churn. Oliver had gotten into this mess because of her, she did what she had to do to keep it all quiet, it was the least she could do for him.

Despite her valiant effort to quell the potential disaster, she knew she'd be fired and she was in complete agreement, she deserved it. It was her job to better Oliver's image and in direct contrast to that, he hit a Congressman because of her - she had clearly failed. This was why Felicity didn't argue when Moira requested they all return to the Queen estate. Oliver's mother had called Walter Steele the moment she discovered what had happened and as luck would have it, his plane had just touched down in New York.

He wanted to speak to all of them.

Tonight.

Not wanting to make this any more difficult, Felicity maximized her time during the car ride to Westchester - specifically Armonk - and used her phone to draft her resignation. She emailed it to Walter knowing his assistant was traveling with him and he'd have it before he arrived. It was easier for everyone this way.

Gazing at the clock, Felicity noted it was now one in the morning; she was exhausted. The weird adrenaline rush that spiked during the fight and subsequent bargaining had dissipated, leaving her with that excessive, bone-deep fatigue that follows. Her limbs were heavy, her feet hurt, and all she wanted to do was crawl into her bed and cover her head - for weeks.

Felicity was temporarily jarred by the subtle sound of someone clearing their throat in the doorway, she turned to see the housekeeper there.

"Sorry to bother you Ms. Smoak, but Mrs. Queen and Oliver arrived moments earlier and they are both changing." She held out a bundle of clothes. "Mrs. Queen asked me to give you these so you could change as well, they are her daughter Thea's."

Felicity hesitated; they wanted her comfortable when Walter fired her?

Not wanting to be rude, she took the bundle from the housekeeper and whispered her thanks; even her vocal chords were tired.

The housekeeper added, "The bathroom is just across the hall."

Felicity managed a small smile and headed in there to change.

It was strange being in this mansion, as far as she knew she'd never been in it as a child, just lived nearby. Sadly there was very little she recalled from the years she lived in Armonk, the ones that followed in Texas seemed to eradicate them. She did have some fleeting memories of her mother's smile, her singing to her at night in bed, and the way she smelled when she hugged her; but those were hard to hold onto, they seemed to fade more and more from her mind's elusive grasp as the years passed.

Feeling her eyes begin to moisten against her will, Felicity forced the tears back - a skill she'd learned early as the child of a Senator. There was no point in feeling sorry for herself, it wasn't like that helped; there were plenty of people in the world much worse off than she was.

So what if she felt alone, she'd deal, just like she always did.

While she had her brother and a best friend she loved, over the past several months she had _chosen_ not to be in close contact with either of them. Being alone was better, safer for everyone - even if these were the times she needed someone most.

Hearing voices in the corridor outside, Felicity took a deep breath and checked her reflection in the mirror. The yoga pants, green t-shirt, socks and sneakers were all surprisingly close to the right size; though she would have liked a bra, good thing the room was warm. Removing the earrings, bracelet, and necklace from the evening, she bemoaned not having face-wash to get rid of the make-up too. Using her fingertips, she swiped at the places her eyeliner had gone astray.

It was strange looking at her reflection without glasses. While she did need them, she also found an unexpected comfort in wearing them; they were like a muted barrier that kept her a safe distance from people. And at this moment, she needed all the emotional distance she could get from the events about to unfold.

No one liked being fired, but for her it was devastating. Who'd hire her now?

With a deep breath she shook off her pity-party, draped her dress over her arm and grabbed her discarded heels, dropping her jewelry in one. Opening the door, she straightened her shoulders and headed across the hall to the great room.

Once she crossed the threshold, Moira Queen - now dressed as casually as one could in designer slacks and a blouse - motioned to the housekeeper who swept in and took Felicity's dress and shoes from her hands and then left the room with hurried steps and what appeared to be a specific purpose.

With her arms still hanging in mid-air, Felicity stared open mouthed at the door the housekeeper left through.

Moira took steps to join Felicity, lightly grasping her hands.

"Are you okay?" Oliver's mother didn't really give the young woman time to answer before continuing. "I gather from the very little Oliver said, that the Congressman was quite horrific to you."

Noticing Felicity's gaze kept flickering to the door the housekeeper just left through, Moira explained. "Oh, sorry. She took your dress to be laundered, we'll have it sent back to your apartment."

Felicity closed her gaping mouth. It was strange to be fired so... politely. Who had your garments dry-cleaned while kicking your butt to the curb?

Before Felicity could even respond, Moira spoke again, releasing her hands and gesturing for them to sit on the couch behind the coffee table.

"Oliver didn't tell me exactly what happened prior to him hitting the Congressman, but he alluded to him being rather... crass to you. I'm sorry you had to endure that." She paused before pushing gently. "I know you worked for him, but I am assuming you know the Congressman...well?"

Oliver's voice boomed from the hallway even before he made the turn to join them in the great room. "I don't think that is any of our business, mother."

Entering the room in cargo pants and a black sweater that only-models-should-look-that-good in, Oliver strode past both women and headed straight to the wet-bar. Opening the cabinet, he poured himself a scotch before turning to Felicity, "Merlot, right?"

This was beyond bizarre. Laundering her clothes and offering her wine before she gets canned? It was just too much.

Knowing Moira's concern moments before had been genuine, Felicity attempted to be as polite as possible as she addressed both Oliver and his mother. "I appreciate the kindness," she gestured to the clothes she now wore, "But it really isn't necessary. You two can go to bed, I will just wait for Walter and then be on my way."

Oliver dismissed her with a wave of his hand, "No car service will be running this late. A room is being readied for you as we speak."

They were nuts.

She was not going to have casual drinks with them at one in the morning and then spend the night after she got fired. She tried to mask her growing irritation but wasn't quite successful, her tone was a bit clipped. "Thank you, but I have to decline."

His body reared back, "Are you kidding? There's like 10 extra bedrooms here, by the time we're done with Walter, it will be three in the morning." He waved her off again, "You're sleeping here."

Seeing her son's heavy-handed approach was not helping...at all, Moira interjected, drawing Felicity's gaze back to her. "I think what my son is trying to say is, we'd really love for you to stay the night after we figure this all out." Her tone gentled, "It's been a long night, Felicity, for all of us. Please consider the offer."

Completely confused by what was happening, Felicity merely stared at the Queen matriarch.

There was no time to process this as they heard Walter's voice greet the housekeeper in the hall. Felicity took a deep breath, squared her shoulders and stood, she rounded the coffee table to face the door with as much dignity as she could muster.

Oliver's eyes narrowed as he watched Felicity's transformation, unable to peg exactly why it bothered him. That and the fact that her evening gown had not allowed for a bra - and his mother had not given her one.

That soft T-shirt was tight.

Walter strode inside, quickly stopped to give Moira a kiss on her cheek, and then wasted no time before heading straight for Felicity. He came to a stop directly in front of her.

With a small curve on his lips, he held up a piece of paper. "My assistant gave me your resignation before she headed home."

Felicity nodded briskly, "Yes, sir. I knew what happened tonight was grounds for termination and I didn't want you to concern yourself with making that decision."

Walter released what could only be described as an elegant snort - the man did everything with class.

Still holding the paper in the air, Walter didn't takes his eyes off Felicity's as he directed his question elsewhere, "Oliver, tell me, were you drinking tonight?"

Knowing Walter much better than Felicity, Oliver wasn't the least bit offended since he knew where this was headed. "Nope."

With his eyes _still_ fixed on Felicity's, Walter continued, "So you were of sound mind and judgement when you hit the Congressman?"

Oliver smiled, one hand in his pocket, drink in the other. "Yep."

To Felicity's complete shock, Walter smiled broadly before turning on his heel to walk away.

"That's what I thought." He now stood in front of the flames that had drawn Felicity earlier, "So as far as I am concerned, the Congressman most likely deserved it, and I don't accept your resignation, Felicity."

To make his point clear, he tossed the offending paper in the fire.

Turning to face the room's occupants, Walter then switched topics, "So who wants to tell me exactly what happened tonight?"

Felicity hadn't seen him move, but Oliver was now standing next to her surprised frame. He lifted her limp hand as she continued to stare dumbfounded at Walter and he placed a scotch in it. He leaned in to whisper, "Somehow I don't think Merlot is going to do the trick tonight."

* * *

Moments after Walter had inquired about the horrible gala, the housekeeper appeared again with a small tray of assorted sandwiches and bottled water, providing a brief reprieve and a moment for Felicity to get over the shock of her burned resignation. Moira had thanked the woman profusely given the late hour and then dismissed her for the night.

This led them to now, and the conversation they were about to have... that she really didn't want to have.

Felicity sat on the exceptionally comfortable over-stuffed couch facing the fire as Oliver stood behind it, resting his hands on it's top. Moira sat in an arm chair to her side and Walter, having now had a quick bite to eat, began pacing in front of the fireplace.

With a sigh, Oliver began the inevitable. "The good news is nothing will appear in the paper other than a blind item about a scuffle occurring at the Gala between a politician and an athlete," he nodded toward Felicity, not even attempting to hide the hostility in his tone, "She did an impressive job and made sure of it."

Uncomfortable with the praise, especially since Oliver looked and sounded quite angry about it, Felicity chimed in hoping to smooth things over. "Well really, Oliver was good too; very calm and level headed... once we were taken to the security room."

"Yes, about that security," Walter focused on Oliver, "I'd like to know more."

Oliver shrugged, "I knew there were cameras watching the lobby, they were in plain sight."

Walter's brows pulled in concentration, "So if I have this right, you knew there were cameras in the lobby so you deliberately drew the Congressman out there."

Oliver nodded and pushed to fully stand, he walked around the couch and took the seat next to Felicity, casually resting his elbows on his knees. "I figured if it was going to get ugly, I wanted witnesses and I wanted him to make the first move."

"You're lucky your gamble paid off." Walter chastised.

Oliver's eyes lowered to the coffee table in front of him, it was somewhat surreal having this man in his father's home - Walter moved in months ago - yet it was also strangely comforting. Oliver had lived in the city for years, it was good to know someone was here taking care of his mother. He also knew the man's censure was coming from a place of affection.

Choosing not to respond directly, Oliver simply continued. "When the Congressman saw the footage and realized he'd been recorded initiating the fight, it was easy to strike a deal with him to keep quiet."

Felicity noted how Oliver tip-toed around the events a bit, leaving out specifics on what the Congressman said and did in that hallway since that hadn't been on camera, only the fight in the main vestibule had. In fact, no one knew what the Congressman had said to Felicity except Oliver - and he apparently planned on keeping her secret.

Incredulously Walter asked, "And how did you get the reporter from running your names and the pictures?"

Oliver turned to Felicity with a scowl, a muscle in his jaw jumping as he clenched his teeth in irritation.

Taking the hint that it was her turn to talk, Felicity began. "Well, it was a bit complicated."

Oliver snorted in disgust.

Felicity ignored his tantrum, she thought he'd appreciate the fact she saved him, not be an ass about it. "You see, the reporter wanted a story, he knew he had something juicy so we had to convince him we could get him something...bigger if he left this as a blind item. He's going to still write something about tonight, but just leave out the details."

Walter became tense, knowing this couldn't be good. "And what story did you offer them? What story is bigger than a congressman and a pro athlete brawling in tuxedos at a fundraiser for children?"

Felicity couldn't maintain the eye contact. "I offered him me...I t-told him he could have an expose on my life as a Senator's daughter. They've been after me for years and I've always said no."

Walter's eyes collided with Oliver's obviously irate ones, he could see his Captain liked this idea just as much as he did. That also explained Oliver's hostility the past few minutes when discussing Felicity's work. He wasn't upset with the woman, he was angry at the situation, he didn't want her sacrificing herself for him.

Not accepting this as a possibility, Walter waved the idea off, "Well, that's not going to happen." He returned to pacing, "I have friends in the publishing industry, I'll see what I can do to get a different deal on the table."

Oliver nodded. He hadn't said anything in the security room because he didn't want to tip his hand with Blood, but he completely agreed with Walter; no way was Felicity going to do this.

When Felicity made the offer, the entire energy in the room sharply shifted. Blood became positively giddy; it was like he knew the deal would hurt her tremendously and he reveled in it. The Daily News reported started to salivate, picturing an expose that stretched several editions and what it would mean for his career. In an instant the fight became a distant memory.

Which was exactly what Felicity had intended.

Oliver was _not_ going to let that happen - not at Felicity's expense.

Moira chimed in, "I know a ridiculous amount of gossip about people I frankly don't even like, I'd be happy to spill."

Walter laughed, "I know you do, and I do too. But really, none of that should be necessary. I've worked long and hard in life, if I need to call in a marker, I will."

Felicity smiled sadly, it was nice to see how a real family acts when one of their own is threatened, but it wasn't necessary. "I appreciate both of your gestures, I do, but the fact is, everything that happened tonight was my fault. I know you both are trying to protect Oliver, but he only needs the protection because of me," she shrugged, "this is my problem to fix."

The collective three faces staring back at her appeared dumbfounded. It was Walter who spoke first.

"Felicity, you're a smart girl. Do you think Moira and I offered to help only because we want to help Oliver?"

She scanned their faces again, confused but nodded slowly.

The three of them laughed before Oliver answered. "While I know my mother loves me and Walter... cares for me too, they didn't offer alternatives solely as a means of keeping my name out of the paper." He reached over and placed his hand on her knee, dipping his head to be sure she was looking at him, "They are offering this for you. We're not going to let you sacrifice yourself for me."

That damn moisture began to well in Felicity's eyes again. "I don't understand."

It was obvious this woman was not used to anyone looking out for her and that bothered Oliver - more than was probably appropriate.

Many people in his life used him for his money, his name, his connections; if he was in a bind he could call any number of people to bail him out - but most would want something in return. He could count on one hand the people who'd selflessly protect him the way Felicity did tonight. The woman expected to be fired no matter what, but offered herself up anyway.

For him.

That mattered.

A lot.

Oliver shifted closer, clasping one her of hands in his. "I knew Blood and I would be caught on camera and he'd make a deal to keep it quiet. I didn't know the reporter would be there but that doesn't really matter, I'd do it again even knowing that." His voice dropped to a near-whisper, "No one has the right to treat you like Sebastian Blood did tonight. No one."

That moisture threatened to topple over her lids. Having someone willing to stand up for her like that - someone who barely even knew her - it was humbling. She spoke softly, "I appreciate that, Oliver, I really do, but it was my fault. I should have just left the moment I saw him there."

Oliver's head tilted, his visage twisted in anger - not at Felicity, but at the idea she would blame herself.

"No, you shouldn't have, Felicity. You're a grown adult, you have the right to be at any function you want." He took a deep breath to calm himself and reiterated, "He has _no_ right to treat you the way he did."

Moira leaned forward in her chair to be closer to Felicity, somehow sensing the woman needed the support. "Oliver is right, Felicity. I don't even know what the man said or did, but if my son felt it necessary to clock him, then he deserved it."

Oliver's breath escaped in a laugh, hoping to break the tension in the room - but he still didn't release Felicity's hand. "Thanks, Mom. Appreciate the support."

"I agree." Walter threw in with the others, "While Oliver hasn't been making the best choices recently, I'm quite sure I can get behind this one even if I don't know all the details."

Felicity's eyes slowly moved from one supportive gaze, to the other, and to the other. A warmth bloomed inside, spreading throughout her body. She wasn't sure why this family was supporting her, but they were and the new emotion it evoked was almost overpowering.

Her voice shook, "Thank you. I don't really have anyone who'd- " Felicity shook her head as if erasing her words and then started again, "I just really appreciate what you're willing to do for me."

Oliver and his mother's eyes briefly met, both acknowledging they'd heard Felicity's lonely admission even if she'd tried to cover it up. So much had changed regarding Oliver's view of Felicity from the beginning of this night, and Oliver wasn't exactly sure how to feel about that.

He just knew he felt ... something.


	6. Chapter 6

* * *

Felicity wore yet another set of borrowed clothes; this particular ensemble had been left on the dresser of the well-appointed room she'd spent the night in. Thankfully this time a sports bra was included, she hoped it wasn't because they'd all noticed her lack of one last night - that would be embarrassing. Once again it was workout gear, Athleta this time, and the accent color was turquoise. Thea obviously liked the nice stuff - the other had been Lululemon.

It was impressive how prepared the Queen's were for unexpected guests. The bedroom she was given last night had a roaring fireplace, fresh linens and towels, a very large flat screen TV, bottles of water on the night stand, and contact lens supplies next to the unopened toothbrush and toothpaste in the attached private bath.

She was unaccustomed to luxury, she'd had it for many years herself, she just didn't need _things._ Even after her father cut her off financially she'd made good money working for Sebastian and now for the Highlanders - a job she still couldn't believe she had after last night. Yet with her, everything she bought had a function, a purpose - though she did have a weakness for shoes and dresses, she was just more frugal about it than the peers she'd grown up with.

Knowing she could avoid it no longer - the housekeeper had reminded her twice - Felicity started for the dining room, breakfast was served. Just as she swung open the bedroom door, she came face to face with Oliver - his hand still suspended to knock.

Felicity took in his appearance.

He wore a tailored black button down shirt, sleeves casually rolled up to the elbows and black slacks. He hadn't shaved this morning...and it looked good on him.

Aware he was giving her the same perusal, she shifted nervously under his gaze. Not knowing what to do and feeling awkward as usual, she reached her arm around her lower back to scratch a nonexistent itch - only this made her back arch.

Which he noted.

Clearing his throat with a quick shake of his head, Oliver spoke. "Sorry, I just wanted to be sure you knew that breakfast was ready."

"Ah - yeah, I do. Your housekeeper told me - twice." Suddenly worrying she appeared ungrateful or critical of the woman, her hand shot out and grabbed Oliver's arm. "But I'm not complaining, she's very sweet, I didn't mean anything bad by that."

Oliver laughed, his smile lopsided. "It's okay, Felicity, I didn't take it that way."

Felicity ripped her hand back, _what was she thinking touching him?_ "Gah, sorry." She rubbed her forehead and smiled shyly, "I didn't get much sleep last night and I'm kind of useless without it."

Oliver's face hardened her admission. "I'm sorry you didn't get sleep." Assuming the reason behind her lack of sleep his voice lowered, "Walter was quite serious; we won't let you sacrifice yourself for me." He lightly touched her arm, "He's already made a few calls this morning. We _will_ find another way."

Felicity smile didn't quite reach her eyes but she nodded as if she believed him - which she did - she just wasn't going to let it happen.

As she tossed and turned all night, Felicity debated letting Walter and the Queen's help, ultimately deciding she wouldn't. She was eternally grateful that they wanted to - but she couldn't let them do that, not for her. This wasn't her first run-in with that reporter and she had a feeling he would not appreciate being thwarted.

Oliver's eyes narrowed, there was something going on behind those blue eyes of hers.

Hating to lie, even by omission, Felicity tried to shift the focus. "Are you going down to breakfast too?"

Oliver didn't like the topic change; there was something she wasn't saying. "Ah, no. I actually just finished."

Watching her face, his lips twitched, he was pretty sure she was... disappointed in his answer.

Maybe she just didn't want to eat alone.

Or maybe there was something else entirely going on in that woman's head.

Hesitant to leave with these questions swirling, but knowing he didn't really have an option, Oliver finished. "When you're done, come find me. I'm driving us back to the city."

With that he turned on his heel and left.

* * *

Thus far the ride back had been somewhat uneventful, other than asking for Felicity's address to program into the Mercedes navigation system, they hadn't talked much. This wasn't by choice, rather because Oliver's assistant Marcie had called him only moments after they'd left the Queen estate. They spent the last 40 minutes going over a litany of things he had scheduled that his assistant needed to confirm.

It was kind of surreal listening to it all. Marcie clearly organized Oliver's entire life and he was grateful for it. From the sound of her voice, Felicity guessed Marcie was around 60, she was no nonsense with Oliver and it was clear he appreciated that, even laughing when she'd chastise him over one thing or another.

They'd discussed his upcoming road trip and what he'd need for that to run smooth, the meeting he had in two days with Gatorade about their ad campaign, dinner he was having with his sister later in the week, and then blah blah blah...

From time to time Felicity zoned out of the conversation - but was still quite aware of the man next to her.

Oliver smelled amazing, she didn't want to notice, but she did. She also noticed the way his profile looked when he smiled; he had that perfect rare combination of rugged boyish charm. She even found herself admiring the way his rolled up sleeves exposed the muscles of his forearms as he shifted gears. Who the hell noticed things like that?

"What do you think about it, Felicity?"

Felicity startled, until now she'd been a silent passenger, him addressing her directly caught her off guard. "Huh?"

"The ESPN spread, think it's too much with everything going on?" Oliver's gaze flicked to hers before returning to the road. Now that they were back in the city he had to be especially careful.

Felicity tried to recall the words Marcie had just said...

The ESPN spread...Body Edition ... oh right…the one where athletes graced the pages.

Naked.

Doing her best to look like she wasn't just freakishly thinking about his forearms, and now his naked body, she wobbled her head side to side as if considering it. "That's hard to say. They try to pimp it as an edition about the dedication to strength and health that athletes have, but in reality, people just ogle the athlete's bodies."

Oliver mockingly raised both brows. "Is that what you do, Felicity?"

She couldn't help but tease, "Oh please, Oliver. Like you don't enjoy the view of the women athletes."

"Not as much as you apparently like looking at the men." He taunted with a laugh.

"I may be a nerd, Oliver but I'm not dead. Did you see Carlos Bocanegra's pages? That man is H-O-T."

Oliver couldn't help it, he had to turn and look at her. He thought she sounded a little turned on and any man not dead below the waist liked to see that reflected in a woman's eyes. The bright sunlight made her's practically glow blue lava...it was quite a combination.

But it had nothing to do with him.

With his eyes back on the road, he continued the banter. "Carlos, huh? Didn't take you for a soccer fan."

Felicity shrugged, "I'm not really a fan per se, I don't deliberately set out to watch any particular sports but if it's on, I watch." She added almost under her breath, "And if that man's playing, I'd watch Chess."

Oliver's eyes widened, kind of surprised at this side of her. "I'm pretty sure he has a girlfriend - and no longer playing for the national team - but I can get his number if you'd like."

The playful atmosphere was instantly gone and Oliver could _feel_ Felicity shut down.

"Nah, but thanks." She turned to look out the window, mumbling. "Not worth it."

Oliver had the distinct impression she wasn't just talking about Carlos, she meant any man. She went from hot to cold in a millisecond. _What the fuck happened with her and Blood?_

The silence stretched on before Marcie's not-so-subtle throat clearing brought them both back. _"So is that a yes, or a no? They want an answer today, Oliver."_

Without looking back, gaze still out the window, Felicity answered. "Tell them it's a conditional 'yes.' Oliver will need specifics about his layout before it is a full 'yes', we can't have anything inappropriate given his recent indiscretions."

Felicity was back to being all business and that bothered Oliver. She had a way of closing herself off, distancing herself from people right next to her. He saw it in the bar that night after the game, last night in both the security room and when Walter came home, and again now.

He didn't like it.

"Is that it, Marcie?" Oliver asked.

" _For now. We'll touch base again later."_ Knowing her boss and his tone meant he was done with the conversation, Marcie disconnected.

Silence filled the car, occupying it like a third person.

It stretched on.

They were one block from Felicity's building and Oliver didn't want to leave her like this - so clearly closed-off and lost in negative thoughts.

"You know," he began, but had to stop briefly to clear his throat, "I never got a chance to say thank you for last night."

This drew Felicity's attention as she turned back to his profile. "For what? Dragging you into an altercation?"

His breath escaped in a laugh as he kept his eyes fixed on the road. "You didn't drag me into anything, Felicity; it was my choice just like I told you last night. And no, that's not what I'm talking about."

The light in front of them was red, allowing him a still moment to turn and look at her. "I know you think I did something noble by standing up to Blood, but I knew we were on video and nothing would really come of it. You on the other hand, thought you'd be fired no matter what - and with absolutely _nothing_ to gain from it - sacrificed yourself for me. There are few people in the world that selfless."

Oliver leaned a little closer as his voice dropped to a near-whisper, "That meant a lot to me."

Felicity swallowed. Trapped in the pull of his gaze, there was something ... different in the intense way he was looking at her. Barely able to respond, she managed a gravelly, "You're welcome."

The spell was broken as a horn blared from behind them; the light had turned green a New-York-second earlier and the driver wanted to move.

Inexplicably irritated, Oliver turned his focus back to the road accelerated just as Felicity's phone rang. Digging through her purse, she pulled it out.

Not recognizing the number but still a little frazzled by that last exchange, Felicity picked up anyway. "Hello?"

" _Do you think this is a game? Do you think you can promise me the story of my career and then pull it out from under me?"_

The news reporter.

"I'm not sure what you mean." _Walter couldn't have worked that fast, could he?_

" _Don't play coy with me, Ms. Smoak. I come into the office today only to find out my story's been pulled? I get no explanation, no reason; just my editor telling me it's a no go."_

Felicity's eyes flicked to Oliver's clearly curious ones that kept darting to hers, she mouthed that it was the reporter.

She needed more information. "Ah- I don't think I understand what you are implying."

" _Let me spell it out for you then. You pulled something and got my story dropped, and you know what else? My editor says I can't do the original story about Queen and Blood fighting either - we got it to print late last night and it's already run as a blind item. That's some magic you got there."_

Felicity had to buy some time; she needed to figure out her next step. "Um...listen, Mr. Roberts, right?"

" _Yeah, it's Roberts, but you knew that. This is hardly our first run in Ms. Smoak - let's not pretend. And guess what, I'm done. I'm coming after you. No one at the paper cared when we ran stories about Queen sexing-up half of Manhattan or pissing on car tires, and now all of the sudden they do? Sounds real suspicious to me, lady - and I want to know why. What's going on with a Senator's daughter, a Congressman, and a hockey player? I'll be watching you Ms. Smoak."_

The line went dead.

Felicity slowly leaned over, resting her head on the dashboard. Dejection all but seeped from her body as Oliver heard a muttered _'shit'_ leave her lips.

"What? What happened, Felicity?" Oliver's voice was pressured, he knew something was wrong and he wanted to fix it.

With a weight clearly on her back, Felicity sat back up, took a deep breath and summed it up for Oliver - including the implied threat at the end assuming Oliver had probably heard bits and pieces in the quiet car.

"Well that's absurd, there's no story other than Blood's an ass."

Felicity absently nodded even knowing that was far from the truth - there was a story, just not one she wanted told. As Oliver maneuvered into a parking spot right outside her building - a miracle in the city - she responded without thinking, "There's no story where you're concerned Oliver, you're right about that."

Oliver wasn't dumb, even without last night's spectacle he would have read between the lines of her words. "But there is one with you and Blood?"

Felicity winced, her fingers massaging her forehead, "I really hoped this had all gone away."

Oliver did his best to sound supportive, he knew he was on the precipice of finding out something important and he didn't want her to close off again. He turned his body to face her and used what he hoped was a gentle, supportive tone. "Hoped what had, Felicity? What happened with you two?"

It was so tempting to let someone in, to share this burden, but she just couldn't. She was not putting another person in harm's way.

Inhaling deeply through her nose, she straightened and replied with false lightness. "Don't worry about it, Oliver."

Opening the car door she quickly got out before ducking her head back in to casually add with a forced smile, "I'll take care of it. You just worry about your game and staying out of the papers. The rest is my mess. Thanks for the ride back."

With those words she closed the door and turned to enter her building.

_Fuck that. Not again._

Just as Felicity entered her building, Oliver was on her heels and slipped in the door behind her before it had time to shut.

Felicity startled and turned, "What are you doing?"

Oliver knew she wasn't going to want to continue the conversation so he'd have to try a different approach. Maybe if she trusted him, knew him better, she'd talk.

He needed to manipulate his way in, "I need to use your bathroom."

"You what?" Felicity replied incredulously.

Oliver frowned. "I need to use your bathroom. Is that a problem?"

"Ah - no, I guess not." She turned, and led the way. Entering the stairwell she called over her shoulder, "Consider it your cardio for the day."

She wasn't kidding. She lived on the 7th floor of a walkup.

Admittedly he was a bit distracted with his thoughts on the first flight, but as the climb went on, there was something else he found distracting - the sway of her hips and the way her pants fit.

At the very last step he remembered something else - the pants were his sister's.

His body involuntarily shivered at the disturbing thought just as Felicity turned to look at him.

"Are you okay, Oliver?"

"Huh? Wha-? Yeah, I'm fine, was just thinking about ... work."

Felicity gave him a doubtful look but didn't push. Instead she began to babble, "I can't remember how I left my apartment, so don't judge. I wasn't expecting guests."

"I wouldn't, Felicity, I'm a guy. If I didn't pay someone to clean my apartment it would never be cleaned."

Felicity smiled, "Somehow I can imagine that."

God, when she let her guard down and genuinely smiled...

Felicity stared too long but it was hard not to, when he held her gaze that way and gave that little crooked smile...

She shook her head and opened the door, pushing the thoughts away and crossing into her apartment. "The bathroom is right there."

Without looking back, Felicity pointed to a door down the hall from the entryway living room.

Oliver took in her home.

Gleaming hardwood floors covered the entryway living room and spread throughout, fingering down the hallway and into the various rooms he couldn't see. The stereotypical New York comes-with-the-apartment-white-walls graced the living room and halls. It was a larger space by city standards, over-sized windows brought in a great deal of light. The galley kitchen was off the opposing wall to the front door but he could see high-end appliances in there; sometimes there was a give and take to having a walk up with no doorman.

Yet it was... sterile. Very few decorations and the basic necessities for furniture.

Remembering he was supposedly there for a reason, he headed off in the direction she indicated her bathroom was. It was small but updated, and once again... plain. Something about that surprised him - she was a bit quirky and he thought her living space would be too.

After a moment he flushed the toilet to make it seem authentic. He almost walked out before remembering he would have washed his hands too, he didn't want the woman thinking he was disgusting if she could hear him.

As he exited the bathroom, he heard her down the hall running water in her kitchen; he took a risk and went the opposite way. Pushing open the door at the end of the hall, he entered her bedroom - and a completely different world.

The walls were painted a rich deep blue, her furniture made of polished dark wood, and an elevated king size bed sat under a double window swathed with soft, draping curtains that matched her cozy-looking bedding and extensive assortment of throw pillows. There were candles partially burned, books scattered on various surfaces open and turned upside down so their places held, a thick accent rug covered the floor, and vibrantly colored pictures and paintings adorned the walls.

Unlike the others, this room was _her_.

"Did you get lost, Oliver?"

Turning to face the ice he heard in Felicity's tone, he was happy they were at least past the formalities and she hadn't resorted to calling him Mr. Queen when she pulled her metaphorical shutters down.

"Nope, just being nosy." He didn't bother to lie, even smiling at his bold proclamation.

Not expecting the honesty, Felicity was momentarily stunned quiet.

"Sorry, I know it's rude and I shouldn't have, but I saw the door partially opened and was ... curious." He shrugged.

Regaining her voice, Felicity asked, "How would you feel if I snuck around your place?"

"It would be fine; I don't have anything to hide." Not wanting her to retreat any more and knowing she _was_ trying to hide something, he decided to quickly switch tactics and catch her off balance. "Why don't you come by tonight and I'll return the favor, you can look in all my cabinets and closets."

Knowing he wasn't serious, just trying to distract her, Felicity rolled her eyes and turned on her heel to walk back to her living room, leaving the clear impression he was to follow.

Not pushing his luck, Oliver followed.

While he hadn't been hitting on her, there was a small piece of him that was bothered she dismissed his casual offer so easy. He couldn't remember the last time he invited a woman to his home, friendly or otherwise, where he'd been turned down.

It stung a little.

_What the hell was the matter with him?_

He'd come up with the intention of getting her to loosen up a bit, to trust him; maybe then she'd tell him what the hell was going on with her and Blood. Poking around in her room may not have been the best idea.

When they reached her living room, he decided to just lay it out there. "Listen Felicity, I shouldn't have snooped, it's just that you're so closed off. I know something is going on with you and Blood and I want to help but you don't seem to want to-"

He stopped abruptly when he noticed she was shoving papers from her coffee table into a file folder; one of them was an 8x10 picture of him shirtless; it had been a promo pic from the All-Star game last year.

Temporarily forgetting Blood, Oliver quipped, "Want me to autograph that for you?"

Slightly embarrassed yet also annoyed since it was purely work related, Felicity snapped back. "It's my file on you Oliver, while I was writing your speech for the Gala I was using it for material."

Oliver laughed, "Is that kind of like when guys say they read Playboy for the articles?"

Not wanting to appear uncomfortable though she was sure her cheeks were red, Felicity did her best to give him a stern Schoolmarm look - she really wished she was wearing her glasses. "No Oliver, it's not. I have a file like this on every player on the team - yours just happens to be thicker because you are my sole project right now."

Oliver was irked; first, he did not appreciate being referred to as a project, second, _she had files like this on all the players?_

"You have half-naked pictures of all the players?"

Felicity nodded, "For the most part. The files are full of all sorts of information on all of you; it's not my fault you boys like to prance around half-naked."

Oliver scowled, "We don't prance."

Felicity smiled, clearly patronizing him.

Oliver was just about to pick a big fight and then realized that was exactly what Felicity wanted. She'd somehow gotten him off the topic of Blood and he'd let her all but pull him there by the collar.

He stepped into her space and smiled, "Nice try, but I'm not falling for it." He got serious, his smile disappeared and his gaze became intent. "Why don't you want to tell me what happened with Blood?"

Oliver resisted the urge to reach out and grab her when she turned and headed to her kitchen, throwing his file on the counter with a bit more force than necessary.

"I appreciate your concern, Oliver, I do. But we are colleagues and that's it, there is no reason to drag you into something that isn't your concern."

Oliver winced. "Correct me if I am wrong, Felicity, but I am pretty sure we moved passed 'just colleagues' last night."

He took steps to join her again, not giving her the physical and emotional distance she clearly wanted, "I know we've only known each other a few days at this point, but I think the experiences we've had in that time puts us in a slightly different category."

The minute the words left his mouth, he wanted to throw a tarp over them and take them back. They implied something far more intimate than he meant.

Felicity sighed, her shoulders slumped in defeat. "I'm sorry, Oliver. You've been very supportive and helpful over the last day and I don't mean to belittle that - it's just something I'm not going to talk about with you or _anyone_."

He should have known this woman wouldn't take what he'd said as a flirtation, she took the facts as the facts and moved on. Other women would have taken what he'd said and run with it - but not her. Again, he felt a bit slighted and didn't quite understand why. He wanted nothing more than friendship, yet he was getting irritated she did too? And irritated she didn't trust him with her problems? When did he become such a girl?

With complete reluctance and against his better judgment, he decided to play nice for the time being; she clearly wasn't going to talk to him... yet.

He sighed.

"All right, I'll let it go...for now." Then an idea hit him, "But I wasn't entirely kidding before either. John and I have an afternoon practice and then he and Lyla are coming to my apartment for dinner. I want you to come."

Felicity was eyeing him with suspicion, she knew he was not interested in her like _that_ \- she wasn't an actress or model - so what did he want from her?

Oliver laughed at her skeptical expression, but then he sobered. "John called me this morning, he and Lyla were a bit worried when we never returned to the gala last night. They saw that 'blind item' in the News today, they know it was us."

Felicity's body deflated as her head hung.

Oliver reached out and touched her shoulder, the unexpected contact made her snap to attention. There was a gentle kindness in his eyes as his thumb lightly trailed back and forth on her shoulder; she was helpless not to feel at ease with his ministrations.

"Relax Felicity, they really like you and were just worried, but that's not why I am inviting you."

He took his hand from her shoulder, tucking it in his pocket while giving her a bit of that physical distance he sensed she wanted.

"John is a bit stressed. He thinks he has two more years left to play and he wants to start thinking about how to best market himself during that time. With three kids he needs to be financial secure when he retires. I think you might be able to help him. Maybe if you're there tonight, you can give him some ideas."

Felicity wasn't sure how to respond, on one hand, she really needed to keep her distance; on the other, she truly liked the Diggle's and would love helping John. Maybe down the road he could be her first private client? She did eventually want to have her own publicity firm.

God, the last 24-hours were giving her such a case of whiplash. Every time she seemed to know what an hour would bring, something else was thrown her way. Hell, every time she thought she knew what the next five minutes would bring, it changed.

She needed a nap.

"Ah, sure. I guess I can. What time?"

"Around 5:30?"

The surprise was evident on Felicity's face, "I didn't realize you were such an early bird."

Oliver laughed, "I'm not really an anything. My schedule can be hectic and I eat when I can but that's not why it's early. The Diggle's are bringing their kids and since they'll have to leave to put them to bed, our nights tend to be early."

Felicity couldn't help but smile; womanizing bachelor, Oliver Queen planning his night around the bedtime of children.

Miracles did happen.

Oliver was amused by her amusement, "Are you laughing at me?"

This time she actually did laugh out loud. "A little bit, but only because I am picturing you sitting down for a tea party."

His smile broadened, "You're really funny, you know that? But Livvie and Lucy don't have me play tea party anymore - they're too busy kicking my ass in video games."

Felicity snapped her fingers as if to say, 'too bad.'

"Their five year-old brother on the other hand, has asked me to dress up as his favorite superhero - but I've declined."

Felicity raised a curious brow.

Oliver elaborated, "It involved tights. I don't do tights."

Still laughing, Felicity tapped her temple as if to say she was filing that information away. "I'll do my best to remember that, but be warned, tick me off and I'll get you an ad for control top stockings."

Oliver was enjoying the banter, it was unusual but...nice to have a female friend, he really hoped that's where this was headed, a solid friendship.

"All right Felicity, you're a real comedian." He turned and walked toward her door, glancing back over his shoulder before opening it, "I'll see you tonight."

Just as he crossed through, she remembered her manners and caught the door before it closed. "Can I bring anything?"

Oliver stopped on the first of many stairs. "Nah, just yourself and maybe some ideas for John."

Felicity nodded.

She was just about to close the door when she saw Oliver stop mid-step. His back was to her and she watched as he took a prolonged breath before turning back to face her. His face was somber, yet hopeful.

"Friends?"

Felicity knew what he was asking. A lot had transpired in the last day and he'd hinted to it earlier, they were more than colleagues.

She smiled and answered. "Friends."

Their eyes held for a few moments, eventually he nodded once as if sealing the deal, and then turned back to the stairs.

Felicity gently closed the door. Leaning a shoulder against the wood, she paused to reflect.

The last 24 hours were a roller-coaster of emotions. With Roberts a looming threat she should be tense, angry, worried. Yet, she felt strangely... calm. She wasn't thrilled by any means and needed to make some plans, but for some reason she felt stronger, reinforced somehow. What lay ahead could be very difficult, but she was determined to be ready.

And while she would never involve them, it was nice to have... friends again.


	7. Chapter 7

****

* * *

Oliver's penthouse apartment was filled with a cacophony of roaring engines, blaring horns, hollering, and one very loud train whistle - all thanks to the Diggle children.

In what was normally a bachelor's quiet sunken living room, John and Lyla's twin girls were playing some kind of car chase game on Xbox while their five year-old brother Max, happily blew into a small wooden instrument made to sound _exactly_ like a train whistle. All of this activity centered around a very elaborate - yet precariously balanced - couch cushion fort.

A short distance away, the Diggle's and Oliver surrounded the gourmet kitchen's granite-topped island counter, completely unfazed by the commotion. Thanks to Oliver's very open floor plan, the kitchen, sunken living room, and adjacent dining room all seamlessly flowed into each other.

It was nights like these that Oliver was glad his penthouse had 14-foot ceilings and no neighbors; it helped temper the sounds somewhat.

John Diggle shook his head as he pensively folded his massive arms across his barrel-like chest, testing the elasticity of his navy blue T-shirt. "Damn. None of that sounds good, Oliver."

Knowing Felicity was only moments away, Oliver had just relayed to the Diggle's the events of the previous night and the subsequent fall-out with the reporter. He didn't provide the specifics of what Blood had said to Felicity, but the couple was able to read between the lines.

Lyla stood, needing to pace as she processed. "Whatever happened with her and Blood, she seems frightened by him and that concerns me."

Oliver had to unclench his jaw before he responded, "I know. And I don't like it."

John added, "Neither do I." He looked between his wife and best friend, "And we need to do something about it. We essentially just met the woman yet she didn't think twice about offering herself up to protect Oliver. I have family that wouldn't even do that."

Oliver nodded his agreement.

"I want to help, but she doesn't want to tell me anything." He shrugged, "I mean I get it, she doesn't really know me." He gestured to the couple in front of him and their kids playing nearby, "That's why I invited her here tonight. I was hoping if she got to know us, maybe she'd trust us."

Lyla couldn't help but smile, a glint in her eye. "You seem awfully determined to help her."

Oliver sighed, "Give it up, Lyla, it's not like that."

Oliver stood, retrieving the nearby red wine bottle to pour Lyla a glass before getting serious. "It seems strange given the short time I've known her, but I can tell she's...lonely."

Oliver's gaze became unfocused, like he was somewhere else. "Her apartment was almost completely lifeless. It was cold and impersonal, yet she doesn't strike me as that kind of person. There were no pictures of friends or family; I get the feeling she is really alone."

Lyla sobered at his words. "Alone _and_ scared. I don't like that combination - at all."

Oliver's phone rang, it was the doorman announcing Felicity's arrival and requesting permission to send her up in the penthouse's private elevator.

The three exchanged no further words on the subject, just a look solidifying their agreement that something had to be done.

* * *

As the elevator rose, Felicity prepared for what would greet her. She had already seen Oliver's penthouse - kind of.

Her now infamous file on him included a year-old article printed by the New Yorker. They'd interviewed the stand-out hockey player in his home and included several pictures. She knew the elevator doors would open to one large, expansive high-ceiling space that would include his kitchen, living room, and dining area.

His penthouse was the perfect square top to the building and the elevator rose in the middle of that space. The remaining sides of his apartment held 3 bedrooms, an office, a library, and 2 guest bathrooms. Several sections of the exterior walls were beautifully enhanced with floor to ceiling windows equipped with privacy glass.

And as if that wasn't enough, off the kitchen was a private rooftop patio with a small pool, Jacuzzi, and beautifully landscaped entertaining area with a full exterior kitchen and grill.

Feeling the slight bounce of the elevator as it reached its destination, Felicity prepared herself for the darkly hued, opulent living room she'd seen pictures of. The doors slid open, and she was instead greeted by a world of chaos and mayhem.

The New Yorker clearly hadn't been here on a day the Diggle's visited. Though this image was a heck of a lot more fun.

Happily enjoying the display before her, Felicity startled right along with the Diggle children when their father's unexpected whistle trumped all the noises in the room.

The girls instantly paused their driving showdown, the young boy halted his locomotive, and they all turned to give their Dad their undivided attention. It was obvious his ear-piercing whistle was something they heard often; it was as effective as a choke collar on a dog.

"Come here you little heathens and meet Mommy and Daddy's new friend...?"

John left the question hanging, not knowing what Felicity would like his children to call her.

"Oh, ah, Felicity," she smiled at the children, "But don't stop playing on my account, go right ahead. It looks like you're having fun!"

The children's gaze whipped to their father for approval which he granted in the form of a nod and the noisy chaos resumed.

With a grin, Felicity walked passed the children and joined John in ascending the two steps to the kitchen. She handed Oliver a bottle of wine before addressing Lyla, "I brought something for the kids too."

Placing a covered dish on the counter, she elaborated. "I made garbage bars. I figured I would run it by you first before I said anything to them. It's a layer of brownies, and then a layer of Funfetti cake, topped with crumbled Oreos, and drizzled with caramel and melted chocolate chips."

Lyla laughed, affectionately squeezing Felicity's shoulder. "You are going to be their new favorite person!"

"Mine too." John added as he unsuccessfully reached for one; Lyla smacked his hand.

Her censure was said with affection. "Dinner first, John, set a better example."

Oliver piped in. "Can I take your coat, Felicity?"

Turning to her host after being all too aware of his nearness, Felicity shrugged her coat off and handed it to him. He'd clearly had time to shower and apply just the right amount of cologne after practice, he smelled incredible. His pants were charcoal as was his perfectly fitting cashmere sweater.

Not that she was checking him out.

She wasn't.

"Help yourself to some wine," Oliver gestured to the counter and the open bottle, "I'm just going to run your coat and bag to the spare bedroom."

Oliver vaguely listened to the pleasantries exchanged between the Diggles and Felicity as he walked away. He couldn't help but notice how well her navy dress fit and how it ended a few too many inches above her knees.

The woman had legs.

In the safety of the guest bedroom, he took a deep breath and shook his head to clear it. "Get your crap together, Queen."

Walking back to join his guests, Oliver made a mental note to call one of the women he had an understanding with. He obviously needed to scratch an itch and was just projecting it on Felicity; it was nothing personal. The woman was obviously going through something difficult and she needed a friend.

Resolved to be just that, a friend, Oliver moved to rejoin them in the kitchen but pulled up short. Felicity had dropped her cocktail napkin and was in the process of bending over to retrieve it. Her already short skirt barely skimmed her pleasantly displayed backside.

He jerked his gaze away, only to meet Lyla's smiling one, she'd caught him looking.

He scowled in return.

Oliver quickly regained his composure as he reached his guests. "So where did you learn to make 'garbage bars,' Felicity?"

Not missing a beat, Felicity turned to answer him, "Summer camp. My father sent me away every year since I was six, and while the ingredients changed with the times, the premise was always the same - layer a bunch of sugar on top of each other."

Though Felicity had clearly said it with a smile on her face, Lyla inwardly winced. What kind of father sent their daughter away for summer camp after her mother had just died? And a _six_ year-old? _What the hell was the matter with that man?_

Lyla wasn't the only one with a fake smile on her face, she knew her husband and Oliver well and they had similar thoughts.

Felicity prided herself on being emotionally intuitive; her words just made the room's occupants uncomfortable and that was not her intention.

"Goodness, please don't feel sorry for me." She added with a laugh, "If you had my father for a parent you'd welcome summer camp too!"

The trio laughed a bit uneasily since they knew she wanted them too. The fact she was sharing anything was a big deal and they didn't want her to regret it. Still, it was hard not to react with outrage for the six year-old she'd been.

Oliver jumped in hoping to smooth over the awkwardness, "Well I'm sure with 'garbage bars' baking in the oven, your camps smelled a hell of a lot better than the hockey camps I went to."

Grateful for the save, Felicity glommed on to the topic change. "I think anything smells better than a hockey locker room, _anything_."

"Hey," John teased, "How can you say that? Those rooms are the very essence of man."

Lyla snorted, "Well that _essence_ smells a lot like 25 wet, sweaty, dogs with stank feet."

Felicity laughed, the two of them clearly spoke the same language.

The conversation and wine continued to flow freely over the next hour and then some. Their gourmet meal of pizza was delivered and devoured greedily; the twins and Max ate an entire box on their own.

While Felicity thoroughly enjoyed the banter at the table - and yes, they all sit at the table, the Diggle's insisted their children get off the Xbox and join the group - she also couldn't help but hold herself back a bit to observe.

They obviously spent a great deal of time with Oliver; the children referred to him as "Uncle Oliver" and treated him like family. Lucy knew every hockey taunt in the book and enjoyed 'chirping' at her uncle. Olivia, on the other hand, thought he walked on water and extolled his virtues at every chance. Max seemed to think of him as his favorite play-toy and kept asking when they'd play a super-hero game they'd invented.

Seeing this dynamic was sweet; having spent most of her youth with tutors and nannies, it was a unique pleasure to spend time with an affectionate family at a dinner table. Sure she and her brother had been close, but he was always busy playing a sport or doing something of her father's bidding. She could count on one hand the nights they all had dinner together, and none of those memories were pleasant.

Shaking herself of the memories, she refocused on the present.

Lucy was teasing Oliver again, "Kane and Crosby have a lot of points this season...in fact, I think my fork has more points than you."

She made a show of slowly counting the four tongs of her fork.

Oliver choked back a laugh, clearly enjoying the 8 year-olds trash talking. "That's it Lucy, I'm calling Robby from your class and telling him you like him."

Lucy's mouth dropped open in mock horror before her smile spread, knowing her Dad's best friend would never really do it. "That's fine, but then I will tell Felicity I caught you looking at her-"

"Hey now!" John interceded before his daughter could finish her sentence even though the damage was already done.

Maybe it was the wine, but Oliver found himself not even caring Lucy had teased him this way, in fact, he played along. "Her feet?" He looked under the table as if examining Felicity's feet. "They are unusually large."

It was Felicity's turn for her mouth to drop. She'd quickly gone from blushing at Lucy's implication, to ready to fight. "They are not unusually large! I wear a size 7!"

Oliver shrugged, his smile broad, "If that's what you want to tell yourself."

Felicity couldn't help her responding smile or her desire to fight fire with fire. "Keep laughing and I'll book you a PSA for ED."

It took the adults a moment to catch on since she'd deliberately used the acronyms to keep the kids oblivious, but once they did, Lyla nearly spit out her drink and John covered his laughter with a napkin.

The horror on Oliver's face slowly bled into reluctant admiration and amusement.

The Highlanders Captain doing a Public Service Announcement for Erectile Dysfunction was hilarious.

Felicity had a bite to her ... and Lyla loved that. "Oh Felicity, you and I need to spend more time together, you're my kind of woman."

John couldn't help the pun, "I don't know, I'm with Oliver on this one. I think that's hitting a little below the belt."

Before the conversation could get too out of control, John told his kids to clear the table, grab a dessert, and get back to playing. They were only too happy to oblige and in roughly 2.2 seconds they had 'garbage bars' hanging out of their mouths and had resumed their spots terrorizing Oliver's living room.

With the kids cleared out, it was time to talk about the Diggle's future plans - at least that was what Felicity assumed since Oliver invited her here for that purpose.

"While it has been fun spending time with you all, I think we should probably talk a bit about what your needs may be, John. I want to be sure I know what your specific goals are before I start designing a plan."

John stared at Felicity; he had no idea what she was talking about but something told him he needed to figure it out...and quick.

Oliver jumped in realizing he'd completely forgotten to tell the Diggle's the lie - or rather truth stretch - he'd used to get Felicity here. He needed to get them on board ASAP.

"I think you had the right idea when we talked the other day, John." He began with a pointed look at his friend. "If you really want to retire in two years then you need to get the right gigs lined up between now and then to be financially secure. Felicity can totally help with that."

Thankfully John and Lyla were quick on the uptake. They actually had had this conversation with Oliver, but not in reference to Felicity; but it really was a good idea so they ran with it.

John cleared his throat and got serious, "I appreciate that, Felicity." He covered his wife's hand with his, "I'm getting a bit old for this brutal sport but need to be sure my family will be taken care of for the rest of our lives. So this means before I retire, I am going to need to do some commercials or guest spots on things, endorsements, hell - write a book, I don't know."

Felicity felt a warmth spread through her as she smiled in return, the Diggle's were adorable. "I'd be happy to help with that."

* * *

Another hour later, the night was wrapping up. Oliver had left the table to make coffee for the group and he was only half-listening to the plans the three were finalizing behind him.

He was more than willing to blame it on Pinot Noir, but he had a hard time concentrating on the conversation they'd been having because for some bizarre reason, he was finding Felicity talking about "branding" and "target populations" to be a turn-on. Granted it wasn't the words themselves, rather the way she seemed to be so engrossed and excited, her eyes practically glowed and her face was so expressive.

He really needed to get laid.

By someone else.

Anyone else.

He tossed a dishtowel down on the counter in frustration because while yes, he probably should call one of his 'friends', he also found the idea ... flat, empty. The reality of it was he had gotten 'laid' all of 6 days ago. He wasn't pent up, he wasn't in a dry spell, what he was was fucked - and not in a good way.

He was attracted to Felicity Smoak.

Each minute that passed during dinner solidified this. She was intelligent yet quirky, absolutely beautiful when she laughed, and so easy to be around.

He had to remind himself she was a coworker and she was obviously in trouble of some kind. She was also far from his current type; he was not in the market for a relationship and he had no doubt she was a relationship-only kind of woman.

He tried that before.

It didn't work.

With a sigh of resignation - there was nothing to be done about the attraction - Oliver opted to focus on the trouble Felicity was in.

They'd managed to avoid any discussion of Blood and the threats the reporter made, but it had been the elephant in the room all evening. It had simmered just below their jovial conversations, dulling some of the fun they were having. He'd seen Felicity drift off from time to time, her mind clearly occupied elsewhere.

It was killing Oliver not to ask her about it, but he knew she'd closed that subject off. She wanted him to let it go so he was pretending to - for now. It may be devious on his part, but he hoped tonight would help weaken her walls. His motives weren't all bad, he also hoped tonight served to distract her from her worries; she deserved a little fun after last night.

As Oliver grabbed mugs from his cabinet, he reaffirmed his convictions. The woman needed help, she needed a friend, and that's what he'd be.

It wasn't until he turned to let his guests know the coffee was ready that he realized the room had grown much quieter.

The Diggle's had their coats on and John was currently picking up a sleeping Max. Lyla had her finger to her lips, motioning for Oliver to keep quiet. He nodded his assurance and smiled softly at his little sleeping super-hero.

Oliver's gaze was then drawn to Felicity; she was packing some papers into her purse clearly readying to leave herself. Taking steps to her, he gently grabbed her arm and whispered. "Did you drive? I made coffee and think you should have some before you go. We had a bit too much wine."

Felicity smiled her appreciation and whispered her reply, "Thanks, but I took the subway, I'm fine."

Oliver was temporarily distracted as his elevator arrived and the Diggle's were motioning their goodbyes, Lyla gesturing they'd call Oliver and the girls waving. Oliver responded in kind.

Once the Diggle's were firmly tucked inside, the elevator doors slid closed. The light sound echoed throughout the penthouse, somehow sounding louder than it ever had before.

Probably because it highlighted the fact he was alone with Felicity.

Realizing he still had his hand around her upper arm, he quickly let it go and stepped back. Clearing his throat Oliver suddenly felt awkward.

"Ah, well, I'm glad you didn't drive. I'd be happy to call my car service for you though; I don't want you on the subway this late."

Felicity chuckled, "Thanks, Dad, but I think I can handle it."

Without even thinking, Oliver quipped back after a mock shiver, "Please don't call me that, I've met your father and that is quite the insult."

The second he finished he realized how awful that sounded. "I am so sorry, Felicity. I wasn't thinking and-"

Her laughter rang out, happily dancing through the open space. "You don't have to apologize Oliver. I can't stand the man, but I swear I wasn't comparing you to him, just making a joke about your overprotection."

Oliver exhaled in a rush, not realizing he'd been partially holding his breath. He was chagrined, "Sorry, it's a habit my father drilled into me. I can't let a woman go home on a subway late at night. I'd drive you myself but that's not a good idea with the wine."

Felicity waved him off, "No worries, I can take a cab."

Nodding, he walked to his phone and called downstairs to the doorman. "Hey, Mark. Can you get my other guest a cab?" He looked at his watch, "In about fifteen minutes, we're just going to have a quick coffee."

When he hung up, Felicity teased. "Well, aren't you efficient?"

He shrugged, "What good is paying for common charges if you don't use the amenities?"

"It wasn't a criticism, Oliver. I appreciate you looking out for me, even if it isn't necessary."

He raised his arm, gesturing for her to return to his table.

He went to the counter and grabbed two mugs of coffee before setting them on the table and returning to get some cream and sugar before joining her.

"Hope you don't mind I said fifteen minutes, I just figured you'd want some coffee."

"No, it's fine, I wanted to say thank you anyway. I had been thinking of starting my own publicity firm but had been hesitant; this will push me in the right direction and help me start slow." She took a sip of the warm brew, "Plus, spending time with the Diggle's is always enjoyable."

Twisting her features she teasingly mocked under her breath, "Which is more than I can say about spending time with you."

Oliver nearly choked on his coffee; he wouldn't have ever expected her to make a joke about their less than stellar beginning.

Felicity wouldn't have expected it either, 3 glasses was clearly more than enough wine. Plus, she was trying to do anything she could to forget Lucy's earlier quip about Oliver staring at...something of hers. She'd felt a permanent blush on her cheeks since then.

"Well _Ms. Smoak_ , are you referencing our rocky start, or the fact I punched a politician in his face last night?"

It was Felicity's turn to nearly choke at his blunt declaration about the previous night. She pretended to weigh the two in her mind. "Well both seem to be off-putting, but as long as neither are a habit, I think our friendship should be fine."

"Too late." Oliver bit back a smile.

"Huh? Which part?"

"The politician part." He pacified her quickly, "Don't worry, I didn't hit any today, Blood was the second one I clocked. The other was a few years ago."

Felicity's eyes widened, "Who was the first?"

Oliver looked slightly uncomfortable yet couldn't stop his lips from pulling in amusement. He looked at Felicity over the rim of his mug. "Your father."

"Shut. Up." Felicity banged her hand on the table. "Do you know how many times I've wanted to? Did anyone catch it on video? Can I see it?"

Oliver outright laughed, "You're a blood thirsty little wench, aren't you?"

Felicity's head was spinning. It was strangely relaxing sitting with Oliver sipping coffee and making each other laugh, but when he let his full smile go...

The man had the straightest white teeth she'd ever seen and they only served to magnify the blue of his eyes; add the slight five-o'clock shadow and he was a walking fantasy.

Oliver wasn't a moron, he saw Felicity's face soften, her eyes watching his mouth.

_Shit._

Clearing his throat, he decided to throw a little cold water on it - for both their sakes.

"I know we've had a relaxing night and you probably will tell me it is none of my business again, but is there anything I can do to help with this Blood situation?"

That did it.

Her shutters came right back down.

Felicity fiddled with her coffee mug. "No, and really, Oliver, there is nothing to be concerned with there, just let it go."

He wanted to hit himself for deliberately making her uncomfortable, but he had to keep things platonic and he really did want to help.

Oliver sighed. "Okay, but if you change your mind," he leaned over and covered her free hand, "I'd really like to help."

For just a moment, one small moment, Felicity let herself feel the warmth of his hand and considered telling him, but the moment was fleeting.

Pulling her hand back, Felicity took a deep breath. "I appreciate that Oliver, I do, but this isn't anything you need to be concerned with," she hoped her smiled seemed genuine, "If I could handle growing up with my Dad, I can handle this. Exactly why did you punch him and can you give this blood thirsty wench details?"

Knowing pushing would get him nowhere, and getting the message Felicity was done with the conversation, he allowed her the subject change. "He made some...colorful remarks about my mother."

Felicity's shoulders slumped as she winced, "Gah, sorry. He can be a real ass."

Oliver attempted a half-hearted smile, "Hardly your fault, Felicity."

"I know, I just hate being associated with that man."

"Is that why you've tried so hard not to be? Is that the reason you changed your name?"

Felicity raised an inquiring brow.

"Sorry, Felicity, but when Walter hired you I wanted to know who I was dealing with, so I've asked around a bit."

Felicity acquiesced, "Makes sense, I probably would have too. And yes, I changed my name to try and distance myself from him. We rarely speak and it's better that way. I have to admit, I was quite surprised he recommended me to Walter. To be honest, I have no idea why Walter is friends with him."

"I don't believe he is. In Walter's business he needs alliances with politicians, it doesn't mean he likes them, just needs them."

"I get that, it's a fine line a lot of people have to walk. The political arena is full of vipers and sharks but they hold power, so you have to play nice, even if you don't want to."

Oliver knew by that faraway look on Felicity's face that she was talking about a hell of a lot more than Walter, she was talking about herself and whatever went down with Blood.

_How was he going to get this woman to trust him?_

And more importantly, as he watched her nervously nip her full bottom lip, how was he going to keep his hands to himself in the process?


	8. Chapter 8

 

Sitting in her small but nicely furnished office space, Felicity stared at her laptop's screen hoping the press release would write itself. It wasn't a difficult task, she'd written a gazillion before. The problem was her total inability to focus since she'd left Oliver's apartment after the dinner two nights ago.

She'd seen him naked.

Well...not naked, naked.

Just Half-naked.

_After the productive and enjoyable night with the Diggle's, Felicity and Oliver finished their cup of coffee and she left. Just as she reached the lobby, she realized she'd left her phone. Jumping back in the elevator, she went up to get it._

_As the doors slid open, the sight before her caused her mouth to drop._

_Standing about five feet away with his back to her was Oliver; shirtless, back muscles rolling with movement, Oliver._

_After his guests left, he must have decided to get undressed because he just threw his top on the couch. She wasn't sure if it was the squeak she emitted or the sound of the elevator opening that got his attention, but her escape plan had to be aborted when he spun quickly to face her._

_Surprise was written on his face._

_Her traitorous eyes then took in his chest and abs._

_Holy hell, he was gorgeous._

_After mentally thanking God he was still wearing pants, she forced her eyes to look anywhere but at him._

" _Ah, so sorry, didn't mean to interrupt. But, um, I think I left my phone on your table."_

_Feeling her cheeks flame, she sent up a silent prayer this would be quick. Out of her peripheral vision, she saw him turn and retrieve her phone for her. Thank God._

_He casually strolled up next to her, holding out her phone as she feigned deep interest in one of the paintings on his wall._

_Still not looking at him, she reached out to take the phone from him._

_He didn't let go._

_She pulled again._

_He_ still _didn't let it go._

_Knowing he was waiting for her to look at him, she finally turned, hoping her face wasn't the exact shade of a fire truck._

_His eyes were lit with merriment, one side of his mouth hitched up. "Good night, Felicity."_

_She took a beat too long, caught up in his gaze. "Goodnight, Oliver."_

_He let her phone go, putting both hands in his pockets._

_God, those eyes. She just couldn't look away. She knew she should be leaving but her body wasn't cooperating._

_The silence and pull of his gaze stretched on._

_He raised a brow in question, grin still in place. "Forget anything else?"_

_He was enjoying her discomfort._

_Snapping out of his spell, she went for nonchalance - and failed._

" _Ah, no, that's it. Thanks."_

_Turning, she pushed the button to open the elevator doors. When a sliver of a space was available, she all but ran in...and tripped over the threshold._

_Strong arms instantly gripped her around her waist, steadying her._

_With Oliver's front plastered to her back, she was enveloped in warmth and strength; her body instantly reacted to it - and not in the way she expected. She couldn't remember the last time someone held her,_ really _held her. She didn't realize how much she missed it. The unexpected combination of both pleasure and comfort made her eyes flutter close._

_And just as quickly as his arms had been there, they were gone. Oliver stepped back into his living room._

_Felicity's body felt his absence acutely._

_She stood frozen for a moment, taking a few deep breaths. Eventually she straightened and turned to face him, hoping he couldn't see the sudden sadness she felt as the familiar feeling of loneliness seeped back in._

_Oliver's head tilted to the side, looking at her like she was a riddle he was trying to solve._

_Needing to get out of there, she hit the 'close' button and wiggled her fingers goodbye as the doors slid closed. "Goodnight, Oliver. Thanks again."_

Felicity replayed those last few minutes over and over the past two days. It was amazing how quickly she'd gone from attraction to sadness, and if the quizzical way he looked at her was any indication - he'd noticed it too.

He probably thought she was head case.

He'd be right.

She had more than enough on her plate now that Sebastian and that damn reporter were back in her life. She didn't need an unwanted attraction as well.

Her head made a thunking noise as she laid it on her desk.

* * *

Heading to the front offices of the Highlander's organization probably wasn't the best idea, but Oliver's body was doing it of its own accord, even if his brain said it wasn't smart.

They were leaving for a series against the Capitals in an hour and there was no logical reason for him to be going to the front offices - but he was.

He wanted to see Felicity.

Their exchange before she'd left his apartment the other night had been gnawing at him the past two days. It had started off so light - humorous even. She'd been so obviously flustered by catching him with his shirt off he enjoyed teasing her.

And then it changed.

When he saw her trip and he caught her, he was going to make a crack about her distraction; but when he saw her face and the sadness there, he was suddenly speechless.

_Why would someone steadying her make her sad?_

Reluctant to admit it, he'd actually called Lyla the next day to see if she had any idea; she was a shrink after all. Lyla hadn't been home though, she'd been at a conference and he was waiting to hear back from her.

Oliver toyed with his own ideas; maybe she was just tired, maybe she was embarrassed she'd been caught staring at him, or maybe having someone touch her reminded her of Blood.

The last one made him itch to punch the guy again.

Though there was this other, nagging thought taking hold in the back of his head as well.

He'd felt her body almost melt when his arms were around her, and he could have sworn he heard a small sigh at the contact - both indicators she liked the feel of his arms there. That had been why he snatched them away so quick, he was afraid of his own body's reaction.

_So why would feeling comfort or pleasure make her sad?_

None of the answers he came up with brought him any measure of peace, but what they did do, was solidify the fact he wanted to help this woman.

He reached her door.

With a deep breath, he raised his hand and knocked.

* * *

Felicity whipped her head up, pinching something in her neck with the motion. _Who the hell was at her door?_

Wincing, she rubbed her neck and answered. "Come in!"

As the door slowly opened, she saw Oliver enter in a perfectly tailored dark suit, blue shirt, and striped tie.

"What the hell are you doing here?" The words left her mouth without any thought, "Ah-I mean, aren't you supposed to be with the team getting ready to leave?"

Oliver's breath escaped with a laugh, he tucked both hands in his pant pockets. "I had some time before we have to head out so I thought I'd come up and check in, say hi."

Felicity just stared. The image of him standing in that exact same pose but shirtless kept looping in her mind.

A smile tugged at his lips.

_Oh God, did he know what she was thinking?_

Oliver moved closer, leaning over her desk to be inches from her face.

"What did you do to your forehead, Felicity?" He pointed to his own, "There's this big red...blob on it."

Her hand instantly flew to the offending blob, "Oh, ah, nothing. Before you came in I was just...resting my head on the desk. It must be an imprint."

Oliver stood back up and teased, "Were you sleeping at your desk? I'm telling Walter."

"What? No! I was just...thinking and...and I think better that way. I wasn't sleeping, I would never do that. I'm a professional, Oliver and-"

He held one hand up to stop her, "Whoa, slow down. I was just teasing, Felicity."

Felicity's shoulders slumped as her breath escaped, she couldn't help but laugh at herself. "Sorry. I'm a little jittery this morning."

His face sobered, "Everything okay?"

She knew what he was thinking by the weighted way he asked that, he was worried about Blood and the reporter so she waved him off.

Gesturing to her nearby carryon suitcase, she diverted his attention. "I just didn't know I was going to DC with the team until early this morning; I had to get everything together quick."

It was a lie but it would have to do. Well, really it was a half-truth; she didn't know she was going until this morning but that wasn't what made her jittery.

This man did.

When he didn't respond she got nervous. Was he pissed thinking she'd be his shadow?

"I hope you don't mind?"

His gaze traveled from her suitcase back to her, still saying nothing.

Her anxiety amplified.

"Is it okay that I am coming with you?"

_Oh God!_

"I mean not coming, coming. And not with _you_. I meant the team. I'm coming with the team."

_Holy shit, shut up, you're making it worse!_

"Not the team, I'm not coming with anyone. There's no coming happening!"

With a huge sigh, she plunked her forehead back on her desk and dejectedly spoke to the floor, "I was trying to say I hope you're okay with Walter's decision. He's sending me for a couple of reasons, not just you."

Oliver wasn't sure what to react to first; Felicity's obvious embarrassment, the fact she was going to be in DC with them, or the very vivid image he now had of making her come.

_Fuck._

He cleared his throat.

The poor woman had enough to deal with; he needed to put her at ease. She had to learn to relax around him.

Walking around to join her behind her desk, he half-sat, casually leaning against it.

Felicity didn't move, she wouldn't look at him.

He took a deep breath and expelled it slowly, then tapped her shoulder.

This was just too much for her; she couldn't bring herself to lift her head. "Felicity's not here right now, please leave a message at the sound of the tone. Or better yet, forget this conversation ever happened."

That did it, Oliver actually laughed.

He decided to play along.

"Well, Felicity, when you get this message, just know there is no reason to be embarrassed; I really enjoy our conversations." He paused, his voice getting a bit more serious. "My life's been pretty shitty lately," he leaned closer and whispered in her ear, "And you make me smile."

He straightened and waited for a reaction.

Slowly, ever so slowly, Felicity lifted her head and her eyes met his. She could see the sincerity in his gaze, maybe even some playful affection.

"You're too nice, Oliver. I'm a freak-show."

He laughed again, then pushed off the desk and circled back to the front, giving her the space he figured she needed.

"You are not a freak-show, Felicity." He wiggled his head from side to side as if searching for the right words. "You just get a bit...flustered from time to time and it's okay, endearing even."

Her face said it all, she thought he was nuts.

Oliver sighed, it was probably best to put it out there and then be done with it. They had to work together.

"Listen, Felicity. We're both grown adults and it is perfectly normal for us to feel an attraction. You're a beautiful woman, I'd like to think I am an attractive man, it's only normal there be a pull of some kind."

He shrugged as if indifferent to the whole idea. He then took a few steps toward the exit before turning back to face her, "But we work together, so it will never be more than that. I do think it's important to acknowledge the attraction though, otherwise it's an elephant in the room and it makes us uncomfortable. So let's call a spade a spade and move on so we can get back to a relaxed working relationship. Okay?"

He had his hand on the door, waiting for her agreement.

All she managed was a nod.

Oliver checked his watch, "Okay, I'll see you at the airport in a little bit."

Just as he was about to leave, he turned back, "Oh, and for the record. When I make a woman come, the last thing she's thinking about is the rest of my team. When a woman is _with_ me, she's not thinking of anything else."

With those parting words, Oliver was gone.

...He'd called her beautiful.

...Admitted he was attracted to her.

And then tucked her safely in the friendzone before reminding her of his sexual prowess.

Her head hit the desk for the third time in twenty minutes, and this time, the desk actually shook.


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Meeting Felicity's brother

Chapter 9

Flinging her exhausted body backward, Felicity landed with an ungraceful thump on her hotel bed. She’d managed to avoid Oliver on the way to the airport, on the plane, and on the bus to the hotel. She hadn’t realized she’d been tensing every muscle of her body the entire trip until now… when it finally relaxed.

With her gaze transfixed on the irregularly surfaced ceiling she replayed that snippet of their conversation yet again: _"Listen, Felicity. We're both grown adults and it is perfectly normal for us to feel an attraction. You're a beautiful woman, I'd like to think I am an attractive man, it's only normal there will be a pull of some kind…But we work together, so it will never be more than that. I do think it's important to acknowledge the attraction though, otherwise it's an elephant in the room and it makes us uncomfortable. So let's call a spade a spade and move on so we can get back to a relaxed working relationship. Okay?”_

Yep. Sure. No problem.

Felicity spent the length of the trip avoiding Oliver and trying not to think of his blush inspiring words — which of course meant they played on a permanent loop in her mind. As she appeared to read a magazine, they played over and over. As she pretended to doze, they played again. As she “worked” on her computer, they reared their ugly head yet again. As if that wasn’t enough to knot her body with tension — especially since her mind chose to imagine him saying those words shirtless — she was now in the same city as her father.

And Sebastian.

Of course the chances of running into either her father or Sebastian were slim to none. Thanksgiving recess was fast approaching which meant politicians were in DC, swarming like little bees around their hive to pontificate about some issue or another. They would be much too busy to take in a hockey game. Right? Felicity nodded, as if doing so made that thought 100% true and valid.

Unfortunately there was also that stupid reporter…no doubt lurking somewhere she really didn’t need.

What she _did_ need was Tums.

And Vodka.

_Did Tums dissolve in Vodka?_

_If it was orange flavored Tums, would that kind of be like a screwdriver?_

_Would room service bring you that?_

Jarred from her typically atypical inner musings by the sound of her phone ringing, Felicity rolled toward her discarded purse. Glancing at the caller ID, she decided the universe must be mad at her.

It was her brother.

Felicity’s whole body sighed. She missed her partner in crime terribly, but feared if she talked to him he’d know something was wrong — he knew her too well. This was precisely why she’d avoided him the past few months. If he got wind of everything that happened, he’d go after Sebastian Blood himself. She couldn’t allow that.

She also couldn’t continue to ignore his calls — or only return his when she knew he wasn’t available — then he’d _really_ get suspicious. Plastering a fake smile on and hoping it reached her voice, she answered, “Hey there, big brother!”

Sarcasm ran in the family. “Oh, wow! You do remember me, I thought you forgot you had a brother.”

A genuine smile tugged at her lips, even as a tinge of sadness crept in. She knew he was teasing; and that made her miss him even more. “Ha, ha. You’re so funny. How can I forget such a pain in the —“

“Oh no, young lady, watch your language or I won’t tell you the good news.”

Felicity bolted upright. “What? Tell me!”

She could hear what seemed like resigned melancholy in his tone. “Nothing that exciting, simmer down.”

Michael paused before continuing, giving his sister a second to slump in disappointment like he knew she would. No doubt her mind instantly thought he was engaged or some other newsworthy moment but a proclamation like that would be a very long time in coming…if ever. South Carolina constituents weren’t likely to elect an openly gay Senator, so he and William - his long term partner and campaign manager, stayed safely tucked in the closet.

Pushing the overwhelmingly depressing thought aside, Michael resumed. “I’m in the same city as you, come meet me for dinner?”

Instantly Felicity’s body warred between excitement and nausea. “Wait, are you sure? I’m not in New York, I’m in DC.”

“Yep. Our father told me about your new job - I’ll temporarily forgive you for not telling me yourself - and imagine my luck when I called the Highlander’s main office to speak to you today and they told me you were in DC. My crew and I are here doing some photo shoots for the campaign.”

Felicity wasn’t forming words, her mind was too busy connecting dots.

Her brother was in DC…and so was Sebastian. This wasn’t good. She knew her brother’s political aspirations would eventually put them in the same circles, but she still didn’t like it. God forbid that reporter was lurking, following her like a blood hound. Who knows what Sebastian would do if he was still pissed about the night of the Gala.

Her stomach knotted.

“Ah, sure. I’d love to see you but um…” No way she could risk running into Sebastian at one of the usual politician hangouts. “I don’t feel like showering and getting cleaned up. Mind coming to my hotel and we’ll just order room service?”

Her brother laughed, “Sure, you never change.”

After a brief pause he continued, his voice serious and his words slow for emphasis. “I really want to catch up. I have the distinct impression you’ve been avoiding me and I want to know why.”

Felicity silently groaned, she really was having a less than stellar day. She missed her brother a great deal and couldn’t wait to see him, but she could not have this conversation with him.

She needed a distraction.

And Tums.

Lots and lots of orange flavored Tums dissolved in Vodka - despite how disgusting that sounded.

It felt like the world was closing in on her.

 

* * *

 

Leaving the hotel room he shared with John - an often little known road trip requirement in professional sports - Oliver pulled the door closed just as he noticed movement a few doors down; it was Felicity.

Hugging a man?

A very large, very well-dressed man.

Unable to avoid the two, especially since he was headed to knock on her door anyway, he cleared his throat as he approached.

Startled at the sudden noise, Felicity and her friend pulled apart, both with large smiles on their face. “Oh, hey Oliver! This is my brother Michael. Michael, this is Oliver Queen.”

 _Ah. Her brother_.

Refusing to pay any attention to the tightness he felt ease from his body, Oliver happily shook the other man’s hand. “Hey, nice to meet you.”

Michael returned the greeting, “You too. Don’t get a chance to follow much hockey but from what I have seen, you’re pretty incredible.”

Oliver smiled graciously, “Thanks, appreciate it.” Realizing it was pointless now, Oliver addressed Felicity. “I was actually coming to see if you wanted to join John and I, we were heading out to dinner but since your brother’s here, we’ll leave you be.”

Beginning to retreat, Oliver looked to Michael. “Nice meeting you.”

_A distraction!_

This is exactly what Felicity needed. “No!”

Perhaps she was a bit over zealous in her answer, judging by Oliver and her brother’s matching startled expressions. Nervously laughing, Felicity continued. “Sorry, I just meant it would be great for you and John to join my brother and I.” She turned to her brother as if expecting him to agree, “Michael doesn’t get much down time and I’m sure he’d love to talk sports.”

Oliver wasn’t sure what to say, Felicity’s brother was looking at her with the same confusion he felt.

Michael recovered his manners, even if he thought his sister was acting strange. “Ah, yeah, sure. Why don’t you and your friend join us, Oliver. We are just going to order some room service and hang out here.”

It was on the tip of his tongue to say no and give the duo some time together, but this was yet another chance to learn more about Felicity, maybe get some insight into her situation. “Sure, let me just run it by John.”

Relief was starkly evident in Felicity’s features.

With a broad smile, she ushered her brother into her room by his shoulder but rather than join him, she whipped around, pushed Oliver down the hall a good foot or more and frantically whispered, “He knows nothing about Sebastian, do not say anything about it. I mean it, Oliver, _nothing_.”

Before he could even form a response she was gone.

The door shut in his face.

* * *

 

Conversation had been surprisingly easy despite the obvious weird start. The men talked hockey, football, and of course - politics; her brother’s favorite subject. Oliver and John learned Michael was running for Senate in South Carolina, he started his military career like many Marine’s on Paris Island and fell in love with the state. He hadn’t gone into “the family business” for his father, rather because he had a genuine passion for it.

Felicity had explained that running as a Democrat in the bible belt was a bit tough, but Michael had served two tours in Afghanistan and one in Iraq, winning over some voters with his patriotism. Michael had been humbled and slightly embarrassed by his sister’s praise of his tours, she made him sound like a hero when he was merely doing what every other enlisted did.

Signaling the end of that conversation, the military man and aspiring politician tossed his napkin on his empty plate. Not one to be deterred and knowing Felicity deliberately invited her friends to throw him off the scent; he decided to teasingly toss it out there. “So do either of you know why my sister has been avoiding me the last few months?”

The silence that hung and the uncomfortable glances were all Michael needed to witness — they absolutely did know. He’d asked the question light-heartedly but now a seriousness permeated the room.

“Well, I guess that’s a yes.” He made it a point to give all three slow, direct eye contact; his sister on the end of the couch next to him, the two guilty looking men feet away at the room’s small table.

Felicity was the first to regain her voice, “You’re imagining things, Michael. I lost one job, found another and moved, I’ve just been busy.”

 _Moved?_ Oliver didn’t realize that had been part of the mix too. _Where had she lived before?_

Sympathy smoothed over Michael’s features, “I saw on the news you quit working for Sebastian; since you’d been living together I knew it was a lot more complicated then that. Why not take my calls? I wanted to be there for you.”

_Felicity had lived with Blood?_

Felicity shot to standing, not only did she not want to talk about this, but unlike what her brother assumed, she really didn’t know John and Oliver all that well, this was hardly a conversation she wanted to have with them here. “It doesn’t matter, it’s in the past now, let’s just leave it there.” Felicity pasted a smile on her face and gestured to her new friends, “Besides, I got a great new job and am quite happy now.”

Before Michael could ask anything else, a knock came at the door.

“Open up, Saucy! I have dessert!”

It was Michael’s turn to look uncomfortable, he stood abruptly as he and Felicity exchanged a wide-eyed message filled glance — one Oliver and Diggle both noticed.  _And had the man just called Felicity ‘Saucy?’_

Heading to the door, Felicity responded much louder than necessary, practically yelling. “Hope you brought a lot, Bill! We have a few _friends_ with us!”

As the door opened, the new guest appeared caught off guard. Recovering quickly, he assumed a more formal posture before entering to greet the room’s occupants. “Evening everyone,” he gestured to the box he carried, “l thought it was just the bossman and his sister or I would have brought more.”

Michael chimed in, “Oliver, John, this is my campaign manager and best friend, William McNamara.”

Exchanging handshakes, William insisted they all call him Bill.

Felicity gratefully took the pastry box from Bill, placing it on the room’s desk. “Bill and Michael met in the marines; life or death situations make for great…bonds.”

There was an awkward silence, each person in the room knowing something uncomfortable was going on but only three of them knew why - Oliver and John were in the dark.

Oliver instinctively knew that the trio did not want any attention drawn to the elephant so he did his best to reset the stage. “So,” gesturing to Bill and Michael, “Would you two want to come to the game tomorrow?”

“No-!”  
.  
“-Yeah, that would be great.”

Felicity and her brother answered in unison, both turning to stare quizzically at each other.

Felicity attempted to cover her ferocity, “I thought you were here for work, I just assumed you wouldn’t have time.”

Sensing his sister’s unease, and knowing he’d probably struck on something important, he was all the more intrigued. “I have time,” looking to his friend to silently confirm first before turning to Oliver, Michael clarified, “We have time. We’d love to catch a game.”

Oliver nodded uncomfortably, glancing between the siblings and clearly seeing Felicity’s unease. “Ah, great then, you can take my friends and family seats tomorrow.”

Felicity gnawed at her lip, she knew Michael would grill her about the past few months the moment he had her semi-alone. She’d have to think of something before then, but for now, she needed to banish the awkwardness in the room for the second time in only a few minutes. Just as she opened her mouth, Oliver took care of the problem first.

“Did you call Felicity, ‘Saucy?’”

Bill laughed and then answered teasingly, “Have you known her long? The woman likes every sauce under the sun, chocolate, caramel, hot, Buffalo, Béarnaise…doesn’t matter, she loves them all. She loves her food and has a metabolism like I’ve never seen.”

Felicity nodded, eternally grateful for any change in subject, even this one. “It’s true. I’m disgusting. I really like sauces and put them on everything.” She focused on Oliver, “The other night at your apartment I would have dumped hot sauce — or Buffalo sauce if you had it — all over the my pizza; but I didn’t want to scare you all.”

Oliver’s features lightened with amusement, “Really?”

Michael jumped in, “Did you not notice how much Béarnaise she slathered her steak in tonight?”

John laughed, “I did, but I figured it wasn’t polite to say anything about it.”

Felicity waved him off with a smile, “I am not shy about food, you could have said something and I wouldn’t have cared anyway. Sadly the downside is having to workout all the time, but it’s worth it.”

As the jovial conversation continued and everyone resumed some sort of seat, Oliver realized his earlier mistake; offering the tickets to Michael meant the former marine could hammer Felicity with questions about her life and she didn’t want that. And if she didn’t want to be alone with him tomorrow night, she certainly didn’t want to tonight either — which meant Oliver had to stay in Felicity’s room longer than Michael.

And exactly how was he going to pull that off?


End file.
